the loneliest bagel

once, we were six
all stacked in our sack
the closest of friends there could be

but each one got picked
made into a snack
and now all that’s left is just me

their scent lingers still
a strong onion smell
that oft makes me tear up and wail

i fear that i will
stay trapped in this cell
til time, and fresh air, turn me stale






About The Author

andy

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Author’s web sitehttp://poemsaboutonionbagels.com

25

07 2009

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