Welcome to the feast
It’s all you can eat.
Welcome to the buffet
Take as much as you need.
Fill up your cups, drink and be merry.
But please don’t be offended if I get up and leave.
Empty rooms are sometimes my cup of tea.
Quiet time is my mind's bread and butter.
By the end of the week you’ll be served only scraps,
Drink stagnant water from neglected taps,
If there’s no time for proofing,
The dough doesn’t rise.
Gone is that warm, fluffy feeling,
The sparkle in our eyes.
Welcome to the feast
It’s my time to be roasted.
Centre table, bird in headlights.
‘And how are you doing?’
It’s all gravy baby,
No, no, really it is,
I lie.
I leave before dessert.
By that time, I’m full to the brim.
My mind a stuffed carcass,
Parts of me, empty within.
I thought I’d kept an eye on the timer,
But I’m well and truly burnt.
If I can’t ferment in solitude,
Well, I’m in a bit of a pickle,
Jokes aside, it’s starting to hurt.
Welcome to the feast
I want you to take from my plate.
Welcome to the last supper
There’s only crumbs I’m afraid.
I must send my apologies,
I can’t make this meal,
How can I nourish little minds and bodies
When I have no time to heal.
The cupboards are empty
And my fridge is completely bare.
Just give me time to take stock,
To restock,
And I’ll be there.
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