Buttered Toast: a Poem to My Mother
Ode To My Mother
I love my mother, she's a dear
and helpful in every way.
But you know, she has this quirk:
She dips her buttered toast in milk.
Now, a cookie's fine--the crumbs all sink;
(don't leave a greasy film).
But mother doesn't seem to mind,
and dips her toast in milk.
Mind you she is a lady, too,
never 'dunks' when out on public view.
But in her home, she induges her whim
and dips the toast in milk.
She's sharp as a tack,
no senility there.
Mother dips her buttered toast in milk.
This was written as a loving jibe at my mother, who had a great sense of humor. She herself got a kick out of it, and in fact, nearly spit out her milk, laughing.
Presented here in loving memory of Mom 7-30-22 -- 9-28-98.
Originally written in November of 1987, with a small edit in May of 2010.
© 2010 Liz Elias