Fresh, Tinned or Frozen

Father was a snap bean,
that's all, Sis,
nothing more.
Fresh, tinned or frozen,
the greens of snap beans vary.

Neighbors in the yard,
clerks at the store,
folks at church,
you and me and bawling Ma,
for years we fed his strange chameleons

so we can swear, on the Bible,
Father was a snap bean,
that's all, Sis.
Nothing more.
Fresh, tinned or frozen.

poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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