50 Poetry for a Happy Soul

Canteen Time

I was very thankful for the small piece,

Even if it was called "fried chicken";

For it was not usual I get this kind of food,

In a cozy setting full of children.

I bought fishballs for starters,

Had curry noodles with fried chicken for main dish,

And had ice-cream for my dessert:

I had never dwelt out of wonders,

At how caring uncles and aunties cooked the dish,

And served every child with a cert.

I could have lost the gratitude as an adult,

And started to blame the cleanliness,

For a similar canteen with similar fare,

Becoming an adult has become an insult,

I started to project my unforgivingness,

For it had become a second nature.

Work had become too boring,

Then I started to reflect on how I did things;

I could have forgotten the toils and sacrifices of the heroes unsung,

And got too critical, way beyond how I should judge things.

Thanks to you, the lovely canteen,

I had turned back to you and not been so mean;

I should have stopped complaining,

At least for now for minor slacks in cleaning and catering.