Sunday, September 21, 2014

The Tryst

The Tryst

Potato was deep in the dark under ground,
Tomato, above in the light.
The little tomato was ruddy and round,
The little Potato was white.

And redder and redder she rounder above,
And paler and paler he grew.
And neither suspected a mutual love,
Till they met in a Brunswick stew.

--John Banister Tabb

Thank God for good Food!

1 comment:

Sherry Carter said...

I love this poem - and Brunswick stew!

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