Narrative

With my friends weed-runnin' 
and laughin', 
my stomach hollow and cryin' 
"Feed me now!" 
Expert-growin' and field-tillin' 
the harvest bounty laughin' 
all baskets overturned, me gaspin' 
for air and memories. 
Then comes the shuckin' 
and roastin' 
the cleanin' and pluckin' 
and my friends boastin'. 
Stories and butter go great together 
on cobs of Delight! 
Corn-eatin forever, 
and ever, and ever, and ever . . . 
Salt and dribble on my lips, 
the milk of corn, its juicy tips 
and embers warm beneath the sky 
akin to stars up high. 
So when next you go pickin' 
you can countthe diurnal tickin' 
the last time here, we had our fun 
between the rows of corn and sun.