Dinner Blues

poems I write
reaching to be lofty and deep
pearls of wisdom
rolling out of alphabets

a satire maybe
a masterpiece
to be remembered
until distant time

a triumph a victory
a band on a parade
colourful display
but falling flat on second stanzas

the pain of it all
cutting sticks without knives
dull colours on faded canvas
my pen grew still

I faded back to grey
looking forward to the dinner tray
I hoped its wagyu beef steak today
another pipe dream, they say

they gave me a heap of lettuce
and an egg.