Monday, September 28, 2009
Half Baked
Regarding a Toaster:
From which, one time,
fierce flames propelled
and licked the crumbs
and frightened me, much;
A toaster which,
having satisfactorily
golden-browned
countless slices
(wheat and white,
rye and raisin)
thousands of miles
and several years apart,
returned to California
to retire silently
and without warning.
Amid a heap of orphaned crumbs
I stood, bewildered,
clutching a piece of
not-quite bread
and not-quite toast.
-TheElementary
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4 comments:
Death of a Toaster. Sigh.
Pauline, yes it was a loss :( I love toast and tea! It's not the same.
Excellent subject matter and your talent for stringing words together make for a most excellent poem. Pappy
Texican, thanks :) I owed the toaster a word or two. It served us well. Seven years.
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