Monday, November 24, 2014

Roasted Pork Sandwich

She watches him; the hunger of life in every bite
While bread and pork and gulps of milk amuse his appetite
They feed the fire that feeds the dream that winks within his eye
Where time meanders like a stream, slow through middle July

She envies him a little for the gusto of a quest
He cannot fully name yet ever tugs within his breast
His vision still untarnished by a road of what-has-been
His feet point ever forward, eager to be seventeen

She smiles a little smile to see him gobble bread with ease
Unhindered by the brutish yoke of cost or calories
And he cannot yet fathom the intensity of this;
How tick and tock can gently lock away this youth of his

…and so she watches him and tries to sear upon her heart
The image of a mannish boy hunched over bread and pork
While planning plans, untethered by the sorrow of the clock
…for mother knows the highs and lows of little tick and tock

© Janet Martin

He came home last night ‘starving!’ he said, and wondered with an impish grin ‘would mother make a sandwich?’ and she did…


Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!