Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Rik George writes

Remembrance Twenty-Four
The feast days loom ahead
With viands traditional for the date.
I dread their coming.  How or what
I eat means little when she is dead.

Life does not hold much merriment
For those who linger here behind;
Solemn things weigh down my mind
My fund of joy is drained and spent.

I’ll eat of course; the flesh requires
Maintenance.  I sometimes wonder why
I keep my habits from years gone by
But then the roast my gut inspires

And so I fill my plate with food
From rim to rim and slowly fork
It down.  No matter beef or lamb or pork—
I eat it all and hold it good.

 Image result for lonely feast images

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