Day Eighty-five

Today's words:

Arrow

Lentil

Bib

Harp

Farm

Soup

The arrow

Split the lentil.

That's how good a shot he was. I tied on a bib

While you played the harp

And he went down to the farm

To get the soup

For dinner. He came back with the soup

And a bow and arrow

Over his shoulder. He'd brought them from the farm

As well. The lentil

Was shattered on the ground as you strummed your harp.

He tied on a bib

And you put on your bib

As he served out the soup.

The harp

Lay discarded with the bow and arrow.

"And now," he said, "it's time for lentil

"Milling down on the farm"

Down on the farm,

Protected by a bib,

He began the lentil

Milling. I gathered up the soup

Bowls, the bow and arrow,

And the harp.

You picked up the harp

When I got to the farm

With it, and he the bow and arrow.

I tore off my bib

And washed out the soup

Tureen, throwing a stray lentil

To the ground, a lentil

That had gone unbeaten. You strummed the harp

As I washed the soup

Dishes there on the farm.

Then I folded my bib

And placed it under an arrow.

I miss lentil milling on the farm

Accompanied by the harp. I'd wear a bib

For protection and then we'd make soup stirred with an arrow.