POTATOES GROW IN A FIELD
OFF SPRIKLING WATER
LIKE LIGHT CAN’T CACTH THEM SO BRIGHT
PEOPLE PICK THEM WITH THE
POWER OF THERE HANDS SO FAST
SO KNOW ONE CAN SEE A THING
THEY KEEP THEM IN THE FRIDGE
SO THEY ARE KEEPT FRESH SO PEOPLE
CAN EAT THEM THE NEXT DAY
THEY ARE LIKE SOFT PILLOWS IN A BOWL
IN THE FRIDGE
NOW I WONDER WHY THEY
ARE SO POWERFUL TO
EAT EVERYDAY
JIM MOWAT
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/potatoes-4/
