Can’t Write a Poem About Hamburgers

We had a rough weekend in the Langlands house. We had to learn some important lessons and now it's time to move forward. But the end of the year is always stressful and busy. So how do we move on? We get the following email from our son. Here is Xavier's poem to cheer up your day!

Can’t Write a Poem About Hamburgers

Noon,

Photo Credit: Pamela Graham via Compfight cc

I look at the hovering sun,

Straight above me.

I see my parents,

As they slowly park,

Coming to retrieve me for lunch.

I peered out the window,

Like a mouse would with a hole.

The lights,

Shining like las Vegas,

So many choices.

Thai,

Not enough junk food flavour.

Pizza,

Hot as the sun,

Burn’s your skin.

BBQ,

Takes so long I got arthritis!

Italia,

As many choices as a teenage girl’s wardrobe.

Then, the hot,

Juicy flavoured air catches my attention.

Hamburgers.

We pull over,

The smell mouth-watering.

I shuffle up,

Thinking that this is to good,

That this must be a dream.

Hot,

Grease expelling,

Sauce dripping,

Sky scraper high,

Heavenly delicious.

I place my order,

And sit at my table.

The waiter comes,

Holding the burger,

He places it on my plate.

I hold it up,

Sauce dripping onto my hands.

I bite it,

Tasting the sauce,

Tasting the lettuce,

Tasting the tomato,

Tasting the cheese,

Tasting the patty,

Tasting the bun,

Tasting the angles blessing.

Mmm,

Hamburgers.