My poems

Potato's life

We're buried in soil small and alone

Then taken out fast, after we've grown,

We're taken back home to have our shower

Then put into bags 'Potato power!'

We're put in dark boxes which give us the creep

Then are sold to these people, they sell us quite cheap,

When put in an oven, saucepan or grill

It burns us to death not gives us the chill,

We're placed upon plates with gravy as hair

These humans get ready, sat on their chair,

They pick up their fork and saw with their knife

That is the end of potato's life!