More Poetry.

More from Rupert King. And by "Rupert King" I mean me, since I am also Rupert King.

Lettuce
by Rupert King - Aug 27, 2010

When she went to the store, we hoped Mom would get us
Bags and bags full of huge heads of lettuce
So leafy and green, not wilted and brown
From the produce store on the south side of town

Farmer Ted runs the place, and he plants the seeds
He gives my Mom just the thing that she needs
Ted's wholesale price, not the one on the tag
He gladly gives Mom when she opens her bag

It's lettuce we crave, and it's all that we eat
Covered in mayo, with a side of pig's feet
Or fried up in Crisco, made so lovingly crisp
Maybe made into wraps, rolled as thin as a wisp

Dessert not forgotten, it's a sight for sore eyes
Mixed with sugar and eggs, then baked into pies
Lettuce is a staple, makes our diets complete
Much more tasty than barley, or rice, or wheat

Leaves of the green stuff we keep in our lunch
We chew it, and chaw it, and greedily munch
And no Oreo cookies, like those of our ilk
It's lettuce we dunk and dip in our milk

Later at the table in our home so humble
In circular silence, with not even a mumble
Mom serves up our dinner in her usual fashion
A leafy green casserole of lettuce-filled passion

She says "Let's now be thankful for what we receive.
This feast made by God, and you'd better believe.
You have a wonderful meal at the end of each day.
So heads down, my children...and now lettuce pray."