Slender silver fits snug in the palm of my hand,
Bringing delicious treats to my mouth.
I feel content,
Satisfied with the results.
Lying there on my kitchen table,
Reflecting nothing but light.
Even though my eyes are burning through the metal.
I have no reflection,
In my kitchen.
Chicken soup steams up my spoon.
Providing it with a soothing sensation,
Giving nothing in return for the warmth I gave,
And its newfound use,
So I'll put the selfish metal
Back inside its dark hole.
Wait until it is worth something more.
Until it can do something for me.