The other day, a friend asked if I could Write a Poem based on a prompt, and if so, if I could write a poem about eating with your hands. It turns out that eating roasted vegetables with your hands lets you enjoy them better than with a fork or chopsticks. It’s just a fact.

So I wrote the following:

Eating with my fingers

Such a sticky delight

mashing mashed potatoes

in the middle of the night

Scooping up my soup

One handful at a time

Then slurping it all down

Is heavenly divine

Chocolate on my pinky

Guacamole on my chin

The only way to know my food

Is to feel it on my skin

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If you would like me to write a poem for you, just post the prompt in the comments, below.

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Here’s something (click the flower):