Poem: Bread and Butter

Take a slice,

Isn’t that nice?

And that’s the way the carbs flow.

A stick of butter,

A way with a nutter,

And delicious we grow,

In an oven,

Isn’t it fun—

And rich,

Creamy good?

Satisfy your aching soul,

With a little soft roll,

Dipped in much that’s kind of droll,

And served on the side of a powder growl,

When the hunger takes a bow,

Flies in the face,

Of a little meow,

And the butter dances on the grave of the ancient,

The flying forces,

The riptide cage—

Isn’t it lovely?

How the dough shall rise,

Much like the rebellion,

Shooting up in their eyes.

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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