At The Dinner Table

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.

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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