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

Cents (an acrostic poem)

Counting the pennies of each minute

Every one of them needed to be pried out of his arthritic hands

Never once did he give out his opinion easily

Two pieces of precious copper seemed two too many

So he hoarded his moments, his thoughts his treasure trove

 

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