Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2013
The potatoes to eat with our meat
Are waiting under my feet.
And so here I toil
In bad clay-filled soil
Hoping for something to eat.
Written with pitch-fork in hand a few moments ago, saved here for posterity. :)
ottaross
Written by
ottaross  Ottawa
(Ottawa)   
748
   --- and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems