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

Style (an acrostic poem)

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Stripes of red and yellow paired with polka dots

That were purple and orange

Yelled out loud that she had entered the room

Leaving no doubt in her confident defiance of the norms

Everyone envied Grandma’s audacity