Potatoes

Deep in the cellar,
Its dark and cold.
They sit and wait,
With silence untold.

They’re watching me,
Eyes everywhere.
They never speak.
Just stop and stare.

Brown and dirty,
They never bathe.
If I wash one,
It becomes my slave.

I’ll cut off its skin,
And slice it in half.
They think they’ll win,
But I’ll have the last laugh.

And soon there will be.
No more down below.
Soaked in deep oil,
Taste good when they glow!