Frank N. Footer
The Foodies Have A Spat - Poem by Frank N. Footer
She stood there with a knife,
and the blade was poised
above the steaming bread.
'You're going to slice it like
Texas Toast, aren't you? '
'You always have to slice it thick, '
The knife began its journey.
'It's too hot as well. You're
going to ruin the loaf, '
She laughed heartily as the knife
gashed the tender bread.
Crumbs were floating in the air
as if tied to fishing line.
yeast as it poured out
of the pumpernickel.
Sobbing, he thought of when they
used to sop up their peppered
gravy with biscuits. 'Wait,
I haven't even cut the cheese yet! '
They stopped, giggled, and looked at each other.
She put the knife in the sink carefully,
and he hugged her from behind.
Comments about The Foodies Have A Spat by Frank N. Footer
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You