Half-Baked

2010-01-25

in Poetry

Through eyes and ears it all falls in
There to stor­age in mat­ter gray.
How long it rests there,
How the soup is made,
As all the ingre­di­ents gather,
We do not know.
Even­tu­ally it is done,
Spiced enough, at least, for serv­ing,
Then offered to the table.
Or more likely,
Placed upon this cool­ing rack,
Half-baked.

Word Counts — Today: 0 | Jan­u­ary: 930 | 2010930

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