Lunch (an acrostic poem)

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Looking at her plate, she wondered how she had gotten here

Under the fluorescent yellow liquid cheese, a treasure trove of textures and flavors existed

Now her stomach rumbled in anticipation of the excavation ahead

Crunching a loaded tortilla chip, her tastebuds danced to the symphony of tastes

Hefting her beer and taking a swig, she smiled loving her little bit of heaven

Last (an acrostic poem)

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Living at the end of the line

As she watches people cut in up ahead

She should be really upset at having to wait longer but,

The fact she doesn’t have to go home yet made her so safe and happy

Slow (an acrostic poem)

 

So many people just passed her by

Like she was mentally standing still

Outside their assumptions were correct

When you stopped and listened, you realized she was lightyears ahead.

 

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