Clean Plates Poem by Frank Avon

Clean Plates



We Depression babies
were clean platers,

appetizing or not,
hungry or not,

with respect to starving children in China,
we ate it all.

At age 82
still do.

Clean plates,
no waste.

nothing left,
all waist.

Sunday, December 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Depression
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