dad is in the bread room today
out of all the places I’ve been to
the bread room
is the best
he pops me up on top
of a couple of huge boxes of butter
more butter
than anywhere else in the world
then he loads up the machine
a sandwich-loaf block of white bread
is placed for slicing
and some softened butter
is set for spreading
the machine starts up
and as the bread gets sliced …
… it comes out buttered
oh boy
no hands
magic!
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2018 00:18
- Comment from author about the poem: Franks Psychiatry, Pt 1 - Early Years.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
Magic indeed.
🙂
Frank,
The imagery of this write made me hungry for one of my favorites...buttered bread 🍞!
Enjoyed the read!
~Laura~
🙂 Cheers, Laura.
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