Inventive twist on old roast beef,
I set you now between my teeth.
Sliced thick and pepper crusted,
Wholemeal bread with a little mustard.
And why not add a slice of cheese?
Don’t mind if I do, make it Swiss please.
They know their cheese, those Swiss folk,
They make it so smooth and holey as a pope.
When it comes to war they’re not so invested,
They just keep to themselves until it is ended.
I suppose it works out to their advantage,
But I digress—now back to the sandwich…
Two bites in another delight!
Hidden, between the bread, from sight.
Sweet addition right there in the middle,
A perfectly bisected pickle.
Such fine pleasure, lunchbox borne,
But all too soon the sandwich is gone…
Greater fulfilment there was in that lunch,
Than from many things we wish so much,
Left abandoned inside our heads,
In theory alive but practically dead.
All the things we wish to do,
But distraction keeps them from our view.
All the things we could have been,
Until we pulled our stock from dreams.
There they remain though rarely thought on,
Leaves drifting through endless autumn.
Memories of plans we only made,
Songs of steps we never take.
Before we know it our chance has passed,
We arrive safe, but not first class,
All those desires left undone,
Battles un-fought, wars un-won…
So better than the loftiest, empty plan is,
Savouring a delicious pastrami sandwich.
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