Mom's Meatloaf -- a food poem/a meatloaf poem

Mom’s Meatloaf
By
Gregory K.

What “meat” this is, I cannot say,
Upon my plate, a slab of gray.
The texture doesn’t give a clue,
But makes it not much fun to chew.
I wonder, did it cluck or moo?
Or oink or baa? Or bark or mew?
What meat this is, I’ll never know.
It sure is mighty tasty, though!



Hungry for more? Kelly is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup today, so be sure to go on and check it out.