by Peter Notehelfer

the rooms
of lovers I know
I watch for scraps
left here or there
A half`eaten
piece of cake

But few
I know leave
much behind of
love’s furious feast
Is it that each scrap’s
voraciously devoured?
Or simply that they
dine on Power
Bars & pills

But even then you would
think there’d be some crumbs
No! Me`thinks love’s table is
simply sparse!


One Comment to “Crumbs”

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