The dreamer & The Foodie

On a tuesday that shimmered with buttered delight, 

The Dreamer met Foodie beneath flickering light.

Between them sat fate in a hard little dish

at first glimpse, it seamed, a sellfish shellfish.

The shellfish said nothing which felt very rude, 

too busy being selfish, emotionally shrewd.

It hoarded the sauce, the glory, the plate

too little, too little, too little, too late.

A lady was there, or at least, she had been, 

half framed in the corner, politely unseen.