Serving Number Three

gracious crying in the corner

tired from another tray

serving one and two to order

number three to fade away

 patient with my fuji flashcube

 I wait to hang your pictures high

 quick as kneeling in the temple

 I want to watch the canvas dry

 creating clever things to say

 to my mirror on the wall

 years are played out day to day

 puttered speach will always stall

 steady with my pogo stick

 I rest to ponder on my shoulder

 liquid as a granite rock

 I stop to wipe away the boulders

 quiet midnight pittered typing

 ice cold milk and warm grilled cheese

 try to use my table manners

 finally serving number three