it’s roast on the roll
and no au jus.
I haven’t had my
dip in you.

the daily grind
that fills my cup,
isn’t quite
the pick me up.

every tedious
task or chore
passes on
with nothing more.

you didn’t leave
and nor did I,
but something’s gone-
I can’t deny.

there is no draw
without a laugh;
the fun has left
the other half.

it fizzled like
an opened pop;
without some Sun
the flower flops.

it’s kinda sad
but what to do?
my roast was meant
to have au jus.