Rollman

They called me rollman
the herb and garlic sauce,
just too good to leave on the plate
that night in North Carolina
the butter dripped off the summer veggies
the spiced red potatoes
the sauces on the fresh fish
caught off shore
Too soon we’d be back in
northern climes
time still to enjoy the excess
of southern hospitality
a plate of pieces of rolls
soft and warm
festooned my plate
so I wouldn’t miss
a single drop
of the taste of the south
washed down with a nice wine
enjoying the reflection of the sunset
over the bay



July 19, 2006 18:11


All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,720+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.