Anything But Bread

Anything but bread I bumped into a man named Fred And listened to each word he said A story I was soon to dread For all he talked about was bread In detail he spoke every slice Some made of wheat and some of rice There’s cinnamon and sugar spice And sourdough he mentioned twice Banana nut he found so sweet The perfect early morning treat With coffee as you take a seat To bake it though, a major feat He chronicled each rim of crust A lighter tan or darker rust Or sprinkled with a pepper dust I guess somehow he thought he must When then he changed and featured toast I think it’s what he liked the most I can’t believe how he could boast He’d tell his tale from coast to coast I told him I was running late I had a very special date A meeting and it couldn’t wait I headed out beyond the gate I started walking down the trail He didn’t stop, I heard him wail “Be careful of the loaves on sale, you’ll usually find that they are stale” Into a café I then fled And thought about that man named Fred When asked to order, this I pled “Just bring me anything but bread” Inspired by Maureen McGreavy’s Baker’s Dozen poetry contest That’ll teach me to read the rules first. : )