A Stale Fruit Cake
A stale fruit cake someone gave us.
That cake was less than fabulous.
‘Twas full of nuts and very thick.
Whoever ate that thing got sick.
It tasted so bad, I could cuss.
An esoteric recipe
of a relative we don’t see.
Were they seeking revenge on us?
A stale fruit cake.
If another one they render,
we’ll mark it “return to sender”.
I won’t touch it with a long stick.
That was not a treat, but a trick.
Like concrete; not at all tender.
A stale fruit cake.
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2011
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