by Tim Chiu
The second in the Buck series - a poem about the 'Yuckster'.
|That yuckster named Buck was finally eighteen,
And though not quite a man, was a very late teen;
Buck’s day, it was, and as breakfast for his toot,
He took from his fridge, some ruby red fruit.
The aura of grapefruit is nutrition and taste,
And the texture and color should not go to waste;
He peeled off the cover to show the ruby red pulp,
Then split it into pieces, enjoying each gulp.
Knowing his passion for repairing old cars,
And his love for fiction, old books were his stars,
His family and friends would choose presents with care;
They all would gather for his birthday to share.
Buck loved to indulge, but often ate where he stood,
Allowing time for his passions, as much as he could.
But this patient young man knew that pastimes so steady
Should be done after meals, enjoyed when they’re ready.
So Buck was up in the morning, with a minute to relax,
Still eating his grapefruit, smelling some stacks;
The neighbors next door were fixing hot pancakes –
A breakfast wish, also, but those are the breaks!