Note Left On A Plate At A Buffet Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

I like the way you eat.
It says a lot about a man,
your way with fork and knife.
You're careful,
cautious of what's hot,
but with each bite
I watch you relish life.
My God,
if you could see yourself
right now as I do.
Did you know your eyebrows
dance each swallow?
Others munch and gnaw
like cow or pig at trough,
like zombies in a trance.
You savor,
pace yourself and
wisely pick.
You breathe.
You drink,
not greedy gulps,
but sips.
And when just now
that sauce I saw you lick,
I thought
“If only I could only kiss those lips.”
But now your face
reveals dismay, surprise.
Look up
and see the hunger in my eyes.