In four homemade hummus lines I can tell a half bowl of you about leftover Friday rice. In at five, the rather wrinkled mushrooms tell their brown paper, we're from Zoe. In four lines broccoli, I, a courgette, can three carrots tell, tell vacuum-packed beetroot about yellowing curly kale on the lower shelf. In a well-ripened four, mango lines, four in four egg lines can tomato concentrate. I, a broached tell should a carton of soya milk, you, pour another four lines in coconut water. I, an unopened packet of supermarket, tell coffee opened you – Italian, Arabica blend – about two purple bands elastic. I as bands hold can and tell the packet, you, as braces spanning in the green design, tightly I sealed can in. In its elongated you-tupperware about shelf top, left in four far lines I can tell in you days without lines and lines without tell with leftovers about lines uneaten -- An undertaking that combines 'fridge contents with the thought noodle - "In four lines I can tell you about..." -- If you enjoyed the above and are curious about my other poems, preview my first volume SHINING IN BRIGHTNESS. I tweet regularly about food, coffee and the influences I find in suburban life. Follow me as @BeadedQuill. Beaded Quill is also on Facebook. Find BQ here.