A head of fresh lettuce sat in the fridge
Mopping and griping that it hadn't been hitched
It was passing each day as a bridesmaid for fruit
And known its time was growing slightly less spruce
While every so often it would be clipped for a date
But it always came with still a leaf on its plate
Its green days began to lose some of its vigor
Waiting for the hand that would properly deliver
The red grapes and lemons flew from the coop
But still the poor lettuce sat and quietly brood
She made an acquaintance with a granny smith apple
Who cheered up her spirits with tête-à-tête tattle
Then one day a stranger extracted her leafs
She was nonplussed that marriage was never to be
Then the granny smith said "Don't be so fickle
You could have been born as a sourly pickle"
Good comment. Too little imagination in your average lettuce eater leaves lettuce rotting in the fridge. Put it in tomato soup and underneath whatever.
I couldn't resist reading this poem after seeing the great title. Very entertaining.
Trust a Granny to offer good advice, which reminds me - Eat your greens you naughty boy!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
this put a smile on my face And that's hard to do