Hunger

My favorite thing is satisfying,
The hunger in my stomach,
Like bells ringing,
This poem about my appetite.

The hunger in my stomach,
Fixed with a meal,
One which I prepare,
Perhaps a pasta with home made pesto.

Fixed with a meal,
The cook takes control of the kitchen,
The smells from the oven hob,
Appetising my taste buds.

The cook takes control of the kitchen,
Ready for breakfast, lunch, or dinner,
Knife and fork poised,
Concentrating on giving me my fix.

Ready for breakfast, lunch, or dinner,
Sometimes the wait satisfies the hunger,
Like biting into thin air,
Gritting my teeth.

Sometimes the wait satisfies the hunger,
At least until the main meal,
On a mission,
Forget about the food.

At least until the main meal,
A rarity indeed,
Because come what may,
I’ll be there for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

A rarity indeed,
For if I have failed to convince,
My appetite may vanish,
But for my next meal.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/do-or-die/”>Do or Die</a>

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