The old plate takes all
With its bare face.
It bears when we deface
And scratches with the fork.
It bears all for us;
Delicious, tasty, spicy,
Tasteless and even bitter.
There are times when we refuse
To wash it and it looks like refuse
In the basin.
The old plate was once new;
Clean, glittering and innocent.
We all loved to enjoy sumptuous meals on it,
It was able to bear the heat.
But now, the old plate is simply old;
Broken at the edges, cracked in the middle.
In the kitchen of life,
Some of us are old plates,
Rejected and refused.
Never to see the light of the dining
And on our way to the refuse bin.