Bowed by the burden of projects he leans
Upon his workbench and gazes on the wall.
Overwhelming tasks visible on his face.
What made him dead to success and failure.
Flavors on demand or those that failed.
Solid or liquid, a challenge to undertake.
Who proposed and then let down these projects?
Whose final blow struck the light to its go ahead?

Is this the person management hired and kept?
To have the say over odor and taste.
Analyze flavors and search for answers.
Qualify opinions and acknowledge criticism.
Are these the goals to achieve and fulfill?
Down the stretch of time with strength and stress
Reports to write and calls to make.
More jitters with despair to one’s call to work.

What separates flavorist and management?
Slave of work, and what to him
Are Heath and the books of Arctander,
The Gas Chromatograph, a display of peaks,
The odor and taste of compounds, the color of dyes?
Through this fearful stage the suffering flavorist is
Confused, saturated and maybe at fault
His cried protest of despair and overworked.

Management of all the land.
Is this the flavorist you give to God?
This helpless, hopeless, disoriented man?
You’re to answer and reckon at the end of time.
Touch him with dignity and compassion.
Replenish the man with joy at work.
Make straight his outlook at life.
And when judgment calls, his answer a job well done