poem for foodies
You Are What You Eat
Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other is gold.
These are the words that my guardian angel had taught me.
After I got food poisoning from a blighted potato he enjoys.
I never liked potatoes, but I love them warm and crispy.
Goes to show that even recipes that take minuscule effort like chips and fries requires passion.
I cannot possibly give the potato another chance, now knowing that the man is a liar.
It took me a long time to realize that only I can decide the food groups that are right for me.
We humans are a complicated lot to read and decipher.
So don’t you dare compare kinships to silver and gold
Because even platonic love is the furthest thing from flawless.
And so are the guardian angel’s mischievous, yet spoiled acquaintances.
Friendships are like food from a college dining hall.
What’s on the menu is only delicious if we follow the recipes and turn up the heat.
But we must get to the cafeteria on time and grab them while they’re hot
Because they don’t taste the same if we’re served whatever’s getting cold.
Why should I believe my guardian angel’s wisdom nowadays since he has become aloof himself?
Old eating habits apparently die hard, but the same diet he practices for years is still going strong.
I used to believe that he was stuck in the middle because his acquaintances are often at war.
Now I am grateful that some of the pressure has been taken off knowing that I can’t please everyone.
I’d be a hypocrite if I said I am immune to this gluttonous misfortune myself,
But it is important to remember that life-changing desserts don’t take one day to bake.
Real gold and glistening silver always takes time and effort for Mother Nature to perfect.
When the sweets come out fresh from the oven, I also shouldn’t bite off more than I can chew.
