A Poets Lunch
Steaming hot pasta, covered
with aromatic dreams.
Thoughts of loving, fellow poets,
who comment and you, they do read!
Sprinkled daily, with fragrant spices of
both simplicity and toasted love.
They are loving creations of God, high
above.
They don’t read you, because they must
have a list of long replies back.
Their hearts are too ful, and they have
no poetic lack!
To these, raise a crystal goblet of sparkling,
fresh, warm, apple cider.
Then, relax in humble gratitude on your
deck’s soft, welcoming, sunkist glider!
11/11/2022
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