Bread Alone

The bread at the feast

Never gets the credit

Always there, warm and ready

Slightly soft, crusty on the outside

Ready to mop up the leftovers

No one ever sits down

For a meal of bread alone

Ripped open

Hot, steaming

Torn, it’s never the same

Shared, it’s always better

But it never

Stands

On its own

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The Spectre at the Feast

That one person no one notices

The one you care about the least

Haven’t you always noticed

There’s always a spectre at the feast

The one with the saddest eyes

The one hidden in plain sight

Casually greeting everyone

Seeming ready to flee at first fright

Can’t you just picture it?

The growing terror and dread

No one else knowing the panic

That exists only inside your head

Never knowing the right words

Hoping only it ends

Never knowing if you’re talking

To family, enemies or friends

This may all seem dramatic

I’m often called out for flair

But did you ever stop and wonder

If I know because I’ve been there?

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I didn't say banana...

Born of sunshine

Nestled in leaves

Its bitter rind

Is a tasty tease

The Florida sun

Makes its bitter skin

Turn bright to reveal

The citrus within

In the morning dew

Shows how sweet

And good for you

This healthy treat

A summer feast

It’s best in mornings

Quartered and pieced