As I walked through the grocery,
Some items spoke to me.
A peach said, ďPlease donít touch me there.
Iíve bruises; canít you see?Ē
A steak told me his grade was ďAĒ
As though that might impress.
I wondered who his teacher was.
Heíd passed a test, I guess.
Two soup cans hollered out to me
As I strolled by their shelf.
One said, ďMy labelís prettier,
If I say so myself.Ē
The other simply heaved a sigh,
ďIíll match him, ounce for ounce.
His contents are deplorable.
Itís whatís inside that counts.Ē
When I surveyed a row of brooms,
One asked me for a dance,
And if Iíd been there all alone,
He might have stood a chance.
I gazed at fresh baked pies and cakes,
Just savoring the smell,
But not a one had words for me.
Iím sure thatís just as well.
You may think I was dreaming here,
But all of this is true.
My groceries do talk to me.
Donít yours converse with you?
You do not have to be asleep
To hear their conversation,
Just wide awake and listening
With your imagination.
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