O lone potato,
That was left alone,
Bereft at the bottom of the fridge
At the back on the right hand side
 
How could it be that you,
Alone in the dark,
Loved life so much
That you grew a Six Foot tendril.
 
That you grew a Six Foot tendril
Through the grates in the middle
And up, up to the light from the chink
On the left hand side at the top
 
What were you so desperate to have?
That against all odds, in the fridge
Switched off, and left for dead,
You grew that pink screaming cry of desperation.
 
I don't know,
But I'm going to plant you,
Because it must have been something
Really worth having