A cockroach in my cereal,
as I pour it from the box.
On a cold winter morning,
it was eating from my bowl.
I was hungry ,
but fascinated by the creature.
I never really took the time to think of these grim critters needing food,
Although they're usually found in the neighbors cupboards.
So now I must give up my breakfast for a bug?

 She was an old black cockroach,
I think a child at heart.
She shined in glory that she won over my bowl.
I thought her as a grandmother,
a loving look on her face,
Though acting as if starved,
as if she hadn't eaten in weeks.
If I had the guts, I'd probably smash it,
take a shoe and squash it,
This is what I've done before.
But something about this cockroach
made me feel sorry for the rest.

Copyright 1986

Please use menu below for navigation
Table of Contents | Next Poem

Background Graphic courtesy of:
Creations by Carol

Click Here!

All Poetry Copyright Cheryce unless otherwise noted
Web design copyright 1999 by Midgard Web Solutions