Sour
At a dinner so late,
Felt like weights on my eyes,
I scarfed down a sandwich
And crispy hot fries.
Along with fresh coffee,
It helped me revive,
For fries are a mainstay
That keep me alive.
But next to my sandwich
And cole slaw, my plate
Held a treat, which was clearly
The best thing I ate:
A fat slice of pickle,
Just bursting with crunch,
The perfect companion
To dinner or lunch.
It added allure
And the greatest part yet
Is this pickle was SOUR –
The most you can get.
They’re almost extinct
So I sure was surprised
To bite into a taste
That New Yorkers once prized.
I pondered the source
Of its barrel of brine,
But wherever it came from,
I’m thrilled it was mine!
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment