Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #381 - Finished

"Write a finished poem."


I remember with distaste
canned vegetables–soft,
soggy, bland in color.
Before the miracle
of Birdseye, Mom would
buy mixed cans of
carrots and peas.  They
did not please my sister
nor me.  Even the smell
made us gag.  We would
eat whatever else was
on our plates, while
pushing the pale green
peas, and sickly orange
cubed carrots from
side to side.  'Finished!'
we'd declare, napkins
on top of plates.  
Invariably, Dad would
ask, 'what about the
peas and carrots?'
He'd lift our strategically
placed napkins to expose
our coverup, before
we could make it
to the garbage.

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