What it was I am not sure,
for the smell seemed to emanate from the floor.
I looked down, and there lying in front of me,
were two slices of mouldy bread stained with tea.
I had eaten a sandwich the other day, or was it last week?
And forgot to clean up the mess that now lay at my feet.
It had been a bacon sandwich - the mouth watering kind,
filled with the most crispy slices that I could find.
Smoked back bacon – the best you could buy
that were cooked in the oven until it's slightly soggy and not too dry.
Placed between two slices of bread that were thickly cut
buttered and with lots and lots of ketchup.
Now all that remains from this once delicious midnight feast
is the growing mould slowly spreading over my feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem