Turning
The mayonnaise has turned;
the ham sandwich sticks to my tongue.
The sun turned from yellow
to pewter while I ate lunch.
Dry turned to drizzle,
in town, the sky had turned slick.
Then an English friend I knew
before turning into an American
turned on me -
said I was turning into an old git.
I told him smugly that in the U.S.A.
they don’t know what a ‘git’ is,
which turned out to be false,
colloquial terms having turned
with the changing times,
and it turns out they did,
they really knew!
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment