Poet Tellaferro Poet Free verse

Thin Sandwiches

thin sandwiches 
we make thin sandwiches in thin times 
we don’t have much but the rust of the engine 
and the dust of an old house, 

I hear her call me in like yesterday 
my inner eyes wade into the seas of once was,
I can taste these thin sandwiches 
this thin meat with thin mayo and dried mustard, 

in time this becomes my history, 
we make thin sandwiches 
n thin times we don’t have much 
but the rest of the engine 
and the rambling of this old house, 

in times of few
these sandwiches thin were relished, 
my eyes lost in the distance 
the distance of memory, 
I taste this bitter-thin imagery,
into my history, it fades 

a memory, 

a memory not really needed 
     or 
        wanted but here nevertheless.

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