Eating Out.
Sedately chewing around me the diners
Enjoying their various courses, abound
In good manners, not clattering china
Or staring at me, as dawdling on down
This immensity, peopled by eaters
I search for any unoccupied chair.
Room overladen with unconcerned feasters'
I suddenly slip, throwing tray in the air
Which crashes almightily, landing in style
After spilling hot soup over the hair
Of someone who's foot was held in the ailse
In plaster-of-paris! ! - now don't you agree
'Eating out' from now on will mean 'picnics' for me!
poem by Fay Slimm
Added by Poetry Lover
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