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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2224158
The healing powers of sharing a meal.
Spaghetti dinner
is way too much;
you can have half.
It makes me beam,
to share I mean, it
assuages my soul;
my mind made easy.
Does my heart good;
my mind resounds a
happy, satisfying song.
I am want to share,
I am glad to share.
I would call it a necessity,
for even though the portion
bulges far past my capacity,
to not share this good bounty
would surely lance my psyche;
to wit, wound’s blood would flow,
and appetite would fall away
like shattered shale from a cliff
so rocked by tremors of unease…
then hollow I, sans food this day,
rubbed raw by guilt and solitary
sore, but this, the sharing of
said meal would be a salve
for skin so chaffed, improved
liniment for muscle strained,
or liquid bandage for a cut,
as giving heals much like
time does, only faster and
with greater precision.



31 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
6-12-20
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