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Writings \
Poetry >
Wet with Rain
by Mark Hunter
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Page 1 of 1 |
Lonely, ready, wet with rain
Half-gone sandwich waits in vain.
Side-kick chips were gone too soon
Eaten first, straight up, high noon.
Now it's old, at four o'clock
Left sitting on it's brookside rock.
Drizzle seeping through the bread
As ketchup runs, its heart bleeds red.
Water brings on its demise,
Helped by microbes, wind and flies.
Insects waiting for this meal
Quickly rip and shred with zeal
The crust, the cheese, the slice of meat
Makes these bugs a hearty treat.
Moonlight shows a pulpy mess
As waves wash up, massage, caress
This is not a pretty fate.
Couldn't someone spare a plate?
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