The Pensive Potato
The Pensive Potato, he knows not what
He’s so worried about, what’s the scuttlebutt?
Does he think about war?
Does he think about ruin?
Does he think about becoming a Boston Bruin?
The Pensive Potato, he doesn’t know how
He is able to worry or furrow his brow
Does he think about sin?
Does he think about death?
When pulled out of the ground does he take a deep breath?
The Pensive Potato, when he looks around
He sees skillet and burner in butter he’s drowned
Does he know he exists?
Well, he probably doesn’t
In fact, he’s quite sure that he probably wasn’t
* * *
Until next time . . . I love you
This made me feel all fluffy inside.
And covered in cheese and bacon outside.
Ah!! I love when that happens! 😀
I envision a sequel involving a spud with a french accent — french fried or parisienne, au gratin or lyonnaise, les francais les aime des pomme de terres!
Oh Helena I love your vision. I see it as a movie. Une pomme de terre à l’étranger dans la cour du roi Louis XIV with English subtitles of course. 😀
That is one pensive potatoe with an “e” on the end for extra flair! I almost feel like this could be a nursery rhyme. In fact, I think you should add a few nursery rhymes to your repertoire!
Well I was thinking I might do an Emo Veggie series. I don’t know if the world is ready for other pensive vegetables though — except for maybe France.
What a spud!
Isn’t he?
He looks like Elvis
He really does. I wonder if he tastes like him?
trying to think of some Elvis song/potato mash ups…not very good at that game
Such depth, such profundity.
Isn’t it though? Who knew potatoes were so profund! 😀