|post-Thanksgiving kitchen mess|
You set before me this plate of food
And I stare and poke and search for something good
To stick my fork into, but instead find
That you must have left all the tasty stuff behind.
Because you know I won't eat these things that are green.
And pasta with sauce or meat or cheese - when have you seen
Me accept anything but stark naked noodles?
Stop all this ridiculous and fruitless effort and oodles
Of wasted meals - sweet potatoes no longer drive me wild.
I know I used to eat tofu and was a child
Who dipped his fork into any dish.
I understand that this adventurous Sam is who you wish
To see atable at 6pm when you are looking
In the cupboards and fridge to decide what you are cooking.
Though I am finicky, I really do appreciate and see
All the effort you put forth for my palette and me.
But, think of it this way, oh mother of mine,
I do eat from the food groups. I eat just fine.
Yes, my tastes are narrow and my appetite small;
I do choke and cry when you make me eat it all.
But I will eat fish, persimmons, and even squid,
And I often can be tricked when you mix new things amid
My staples of apples, kiwi, hard boiled eggs and cheese.
So, when I won't try your new dish, don't take it as a failure, please.
Someday I will comprehend your prowess with food.
In the mean time, don't let my pickiness affect your mood.
Rest assured that one of these days my tastebuds will gel
And we will mark the day when in love with your cooking I fell.
|gougeres for Thanksgiving|