It floats in the air
threatening colleague's nose hairs.
You tried to hide it
but life's not fair.
A glance around
leads into a frown.
You bite your lip;
you've been found.
Damn their senses for being keen;
they walk over, "What did you have to eat?"
You scratch your head and admit:
"Some very incredibly mean pork and beans."
"Next time, all I ask,
is warn me, so I can wear a mask."
An awkward smile is born from the quip
but pork and beans you will never quit.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2019)
PoetryShort poems of varying subjects and construction, but deep enough to be swallowed in. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. These were written mostly in the year 2019. Please feel free to leave any feedback...
