Three poems by Chef

Running Slow

I'll stop to smell the flowers sweet,
You'll run to not be late.
And I'll arrive at half-past-nine…
You arrived at eight.

An you will get the raise in pay,
And I will not;
But you will never slow,
And I will know the joys of life,
The beauty of the snow.

The softness of the moss
Or the swell smell of the rose.
And because you get the money,
I'll know things you'll never know.

I Am Me

I am me,

Me is I.

Grass is green

Sky is blue

Knife is mean

Heart is true.

I am me,

Me is I.

Humans walk,

Birds, they fly. 

I made this poem,

But don't know why.

But I am me,

Me is I.

Imagine

Imagine!
Imagine we could see imagination.
Or talk with it,
What a weird conversation!

And would we really see it
Or is it hallucination?
This poem took an hour to make.
(Over-exaggeration.)