Thursday, April 21, 2016

A poem about a mom and cooking dinner...

Why do I even try?
the more time I take
the less they eat,
actually the less they even try.
So why do I even try?

Anything with noodles, sure,
but hold the sauce,
hold the meat,
wait, hold it all but the noodles.
Why do I even try?

Rice is good, but nothing new,
white, minute, no extras,
is it mixed? they asked,
then I will starve, they say.
Why do I even try?

The more time I take,
the more dishes involved,
the less they eat
I don't know why
I even try.

What would happen if I didnt cook?
All they will eat,
all of them, quite possibly will be
gold fish crackers and string cheese.
Oh well.

That's it,
I am taking the day off.

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