A poem by Beverly Stock.
© Dennis Cox | Dreamstime.com
The lunch lady lives far away,
And oh, my heart is sad to say.
And all my fears fall fast by night.
Will she make it to school alright?
Why miles grow few when lunch is fleet,
And the lunch lady hath flying feet;
Break off my fear and witness this,
My lunch lady defies what distance is.
She knows not I admire her so,
And standing at the frier, does she know?
How many tales would I impart?
Aggrandizing her fish sticks (and winning her heart?)
Calm thou the tempest in my breast,
Mystery just before lunch is the best,
If I bide my time, she will make
My very favorite chocolate cake!
But though my heart so intensely yearns,
Lunch lady knows me not in turn,
How may I win her best reply?
I’ll say, “Your chocolate cake is my lullaby.”
Food breedeth love, be thou but true,
And soon I'll eat my lunch near 2;
If fate hath meant, she bakes that cake,
There's naught that will my fondness break.
My poem was inspired by a verse in the public domain entitled, A Lyric by Paul Laurence Dunbar.