The Cheese of Time
My dad brought home this cheese once.
I hated it. It reeked.
Everyone enjoyed it except me.
It's been five years now. He still brings this cheese home.
I’ve started to use it in my dips.
It tastes better when it’s drowning in mayo and spinach.
I walked in and I could smell it.
Tired after work, I grab a knife.
Hmm. Doesn’t taste bad.
As we walk back from the funeral, I can smell the cheese he used to bring home.
So, I head over to the supermarket and grab a chunk.
My daughter hates it. Said it reeked
I smiled.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
