The Weight of the Meal

idea: mary had a little lamb. then mary had dinner.

Mary had a little lamb,
A soft, wool-edged shadow of light.
It breathed the innocence of dawn,
A perfect, unmarred, fragile sight.

It was a moment spun from dew,
A whisper carried on the breeze,
A world where innocence grew,
Beneath the quiet, ancient trees.

And then the evening drew its pall,
The kitchen light began to gleam.
The simple memory starts to fall,
Into the landscape of a dream.

For suddenly, the softness ceased,
The gentle warmth began to fade.
The phantom peace of that soft feast
Was traded for the stark parade.

Mary had dinner, and the silence grew,
A hollow echo where the lamb once lay.
The innocence, a dream slipped through,
Lost in the heavy, common day.

The lamb is gone, a thing untold,
A tether snapped from purest grace.
And all that’s left is bitter cold—
The unforgiving, empty space.