Butter for ya muffin

You know that bit of waxy paper between the lid and the buttery spread? What’s that all about?

I am the paper that sits on top of your spread.
I’ve seen that look upon your face, you often scratch your head.
I know you want to discard me, throw me in the bin,
but you don’t know my purpose, to chuck me’d be a sin.

So I’ll sit here getting crinkled, oily and unloved.
til the time you drop me on the floor
and decide enough’s enough.

Advertisements

Don't be shy, leave a reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s