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Jul 2016
When I sit down
At the table
I get excited
To read your label

Peeling back
Your foil cover
A small square of joy
I discover

Strawberry or grape
Jelly or jam
I don't really
Give a ****

I use a few
On my toast
That's the way
I like it most

I think I'm hooked
Don't try and knock it
I put a couple
In my pocket

When no one is looking
Into my pocket I reach
Slowly I pull one out
Man I hope it's peach

Always thinking about it
That sticky substance I crave
Won't someone help me
I'm becoming it's slave

In the fall
It's homemade preserve
On a Ritz *******
I like to serve

I can't stop
No matter how I try
I'll be a slave to the jelly
Till the day I die
The Lunchtime Poet
Written by
The Lunchtime Poet
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