Hey you, you little string bean
shelved away by others in your prime
once you grew proud against the fence
supple, green, anxious for the harvest
then reality set it
you were planted, you were picked
You were bitten, set aside
then politely but not rightly
you were sealed into a jar of pickled promises
for others to eat as a treat
Hey you, you little string bean
limp, chewed up, white fuzz growing on your head,
what became of the silver chafing dish,
the almonds and the onions?