Food.
So bad, yet so good.
So many colours, so many textures.
So many food poisonings taken for the pleasure.
You gave me gout last Christmas Eve,
But I don’t hold it against you, you see,
For I know our relationship is solid.
Once the doctor unclogs my arteries.
This Christmas things will be different.
You promised we’d take things slower.
If I end up back in the kidney stones ward.
I’m afraid our fond relationship may be over.
Ah, gout … let me guess, no gift receipt? I love your poem. – tsk
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Hahaha sadly not! Thanks so much Tony, I really appreciate your feedback.
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