A Pair Of Petits Pois Poem by C Richard Miles

Under the table, down on the floor
Are a couple of items I try to ignore;
There they will lie, condemned to their fate
Since they both rolled off the side of my plate.
They’ll go in the hoover, to meet all the fluff;
Their final indignity, if that’s not enough,
Is to moulder there sadly, till thrown in the bin.
They can hardly believe it: it seems such a sin
That, after they’d taken all summer to grow,
Their ungrateful procurer decided to throw
Green globes of perfection, fresh out of the pod,
Away like mere garbage, the miserable sod.
It wasn’t as if their foul murderer grieved
No wonder two poor petits pois are so “peaved”.