Alone
Eating alone,
Like clapping with one hand
Satisfies none,
Just where is the fun?
Cooking for one,
Much the same,
Just to please me?
That's insane...
A communal event,
With his death it sure went,
Now bachelor micro- meal
Is all that does appeal,
And setting a table,
Seems more than I'm able,
Then there's pots to clean,
The thought too obscene,
A sigh all you'll hear
When dinner time grows near,
Cause it ain't fun anymore,
Without the dad I adore
Copyright © Tom Bell | Year Posted 2007
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