The Dish Man
The Dish Man
There’s a man on the roof across the way;
Walking with a sure-footed gait
What is he doing there, I wonder.
He is entertaining to say the least.
He trods and throws a big dish down,
I watch his every move;
He is frozen to the bone, I think,
Mackinaw, hat and gloves.
I go to the kitchen to get a snack,
When I come back, he is gone.
Did he fall off that roof, slide down,
Or fly away, the dish, too, is not there!
Did that dish become a magic carpet ride?
Did he swoop through the winter clouds?
Will he join a drone, take another home?
Find a friend and a fireplace fire?
Such are the musings on a cold wet Saturday afternoon,
Without him, what am I to do?
Watch cable?
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.
