Eye

Mary stared into her bowl of soup.

She saw an eyeball looking back at her.

Horrified she waved the waiter over.

He shambled to the table.

Sort of like a zombie.

He scooped out the eyeball with his bony fingers and ate it.

She looked up at him.

He was a zombie.

Oh no!

I wrote this rather frightful poem conveniently close to Halloween. I wasn't eating a bowl of soup at the time, but I was thinking about soup. Then I started thinking about the sort of things you might find in soup. Then I put pen to paper in a metaphorical sense and wrote this using a keyboard.