....it was a challenge...what can I say...


Barbeque Potato Chips

She tastes the first one, softly crunching down on it
Stealing away to a corner to keep her pleasure to herself
As the bag is full of little round goblets of ambrosia
Masquerading as chips fried from humble potatoes
The barbeque taste hits her now, gently but firm
Like a grandfather's guiding hand
And she remembers barbeques at home
The family laughing as the smoke rises
As the taste spreads in her mouth so too the memories
Diffuse in her nostalgic brain
The smell of the crackling meats and spices
Too much for her young mouth, and her persistence
Bringing laughter to all who see her
Days in school drift next into her focus as her meal continues
Numerous sharings of food, stealthily avoiding teachers' eyes
The significant discussions held over the food
Parents disapprovingly label as 'junk'
But she deems essential to making it through another day
Rustles interrupt her rumination, and she looks down
To find her hand digging through unhappy air
To the lobby, she sighs mentally, but she doesnt mind
As she leaves her room to saunter downstairs
Memories for a dollar? The price is cheap.



Poetry by Dominic
Read 436 times
Written on 2006-11-03 at 08:57

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