Potatoes

you lounge around,

sunk into the couch

without a care

in the world,

while I am always

wrapped in a silver foil

all set to be baked;

we may have come

from similar soils,

but only one of us

knows what it is like

to live in the heat

of everyday life

only to be dropped

like a hot potato!

Β©Aaysid

“Not everyone can be a truffle. Most of us are potatoes. And a potato is a very good thing to be.”

Massimo Bottura

32 thoughts on “Potatoes

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  1. Okay, the title grabbed me immediately! I mean, it’s brilliant (hey, I love potatoes and grew up on a farm where we raised them in our garden). Also, I must confess I make the world’s best fried potatoes. No kidding. πŸ˜€ The imagery in this poem is perfect, especially regarding your foil wrapping and how you “live in the heat of everyday life, only to be dropped like a hot potato.” Perfect. Also, although it comes across as light an\d humorous on the surface, I sense a depth of layers in this one, and have definitely experienced the feeling of having “come from similar soils’ but realizing I was the only one who had been through life’s fires, while the other person had no idea of what I’d gone through and didn’t care one way or the other. Anyway, you had me at “Potatoes!” πŸ˜€ Well done, Aaysid. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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