My Sandwich

By: Audrey Mays

I don’t like crust

But stuck with the ends

No clean knives

In the sink it descends

Sticky rim on the jelly

For at the bottom it lays

Now my hand is a mess

Obviously not my fortes

Adding peanut butter now

Nearing sandwich completion

Not cut in triangles

This fruity square burden

As it touches my lips

I recall why I enjoy

This simple sandwich I hold

Begins a memorial convoy

Childhood memories

Recalled in my head

Of afternoon playtime

And this smooth nutty spread

With milk as its pair

It neither formal nor strict

My sandwich is done

So my fingers I licked