SOUPS

On the road down towards

The village church

The traffic roars thru’ the

Cobbled road

A mere ten minutes’ drive from

The capital.

The poet has fortunately

Recovered reasonably

To walk down the narrow

Pavement

Light-headed though

But his unsteady gait tested

By instable atmospheric

Pressures of month May

That reminds of April rather

Many blame on the worldwide

Climatic changes.

Whatever.

The colourful team at the

Pizzeria

Close to the village church

Is booming with hectic business

Three. Four. Five. Six pizzas

The gregarious chief produces

While the poet waits for his

Turn to collect his order.

Minestrone

Sliced pancake soup

Pepsi Cola.

SOUPS.SPUOS

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.

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