Fast food restaurant
Nowadays I have to look,To see just just what I've bought.
Or I'll end up with with sugar,
On my chips instead of salt.
To one of the kitchen staff,
I asked politely could I have a utensil.
To eat my cheesy chips,
She answered back sternly,
As she began to talk.
The girl on the till should have given you one,
That sounds nice, I replied. But at my age
All I want is a fork.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 148 times
Written on 2024-03-31 at 01:18
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