"Martha"
She stands by herself in a great white room,
Clothed in a shroud of melancholy gloom,
Eyes fixed like an eagle with easy prey
On a table of treats on bright display.
Éclairs, cookies and sponge cakes soaked in cream,
She approaches as in a daze, or dream.
Her slender fingers graze sweet after sweet,
Caressing, touching, not daring to eat.
She chooses a cake with trembling hand,
The temptation much too much to withstand.
But there are so many options to choose,
Afraid she won’t like it, afraid she might lose
Her appetite, so she spits out the cake
And throws it away, there’s too much at stake
To choose just one, a decision too great
To fathom now, she’s becoming irate.
The table is overturned with a bang,
The cakes and the candy might as well hang.
She falls in a huff, devoid of her spread,
Her once shining world is now full of dread.
By herself in the room, there’s a scream like a squall;
She wanted everything, but has nothing at all.
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