Lawrence S. Pertillar
Uncomfortable 'Is' The Silence - Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
As I sit pondering,
With your eyes fixed...
And gazing strangely,
At my giblets.
Is this the season,
I should use?
Will the appetite ignite excitement?
Is that why your eyes remain fixed,
Because my giblets sit...
Without a top?
And no heat to increase the ingredients?
My mind is not the only thing unplugged!
Are the onions, carrots and celery chopped?
They are not,
As a turkey lays baking...
Awaiting a stuffing mix,
I have yet to prepare...
Because I forgot!
And there is no sign from me given,
I am ready to start?
Oh so uncomfortable is the silence,
As I am without explanation...
As to 'why' this Christmas dinner,
Will be late to serve.
Uncomfortable 'is' the silence!
And I wonder...
Plug in the crock?
Without the lid on top?
And is the staring I get,
Uncomfortable is the silence.
And not a snack to munch,
Is on a platter placed...
From which munchies are crunched,
To tease a nibble to taste.
What a waste.
Uncomfortable is the silence,
When hor d'oeuvres are not presented to offer.
Now I can understand,
Why eyes are fixed...
Not even a carol heard playing.
Or chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Can quench the thirst...
For intentions meant with desire,
But gone undelivered.
Unconcomfortable 'is' the silence.
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