His Dinner Table
Blackened meats on stove stops and grills
A better taste
A distaste between wills
I find her on my hunting ground with
the possessions belonging to my plate
But I have no plate
I put down bows arrows knives and pride
to give back men like you
who take advantage of the miles
to make two meals
and no supper
One should suffer
because I have never eaten
and etched into menus with your name
But by the sweat of your brow
I'll never eat
Put in practice limp muscles for my own feast
And I can't blame you
For that's the nature of the beast
Sneaking bites between lunch and dinner
But it helps me to keep
my center in forever motion
so I too can have meat
Copyright ©
Te Indi | Year Posted 2012
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