Confession of a Fussy Eater
A poem — about whispers of taste
Let misconceptions freely sway.
Even truth can’t define how unique you are.
Rise up, my taste buds
No more pleasing others, we shall decree.
No need for explanations to defend
Or thrilling sensations against the tongue
Fancy plates of chaos, we shun
In simple tastes, we find where we belong.
For those who sample far and wide,
might feel they’ve hit a daunting tide.
In a world where explanations oft confound,
who claims that new is always true and sound?
They labeled us as picky eaters, it’s true.
Called us flavor haters without a clue.
We are fussy feelers, texture gaggers with pride,
Hesitant smellers, forever munchers, side by side.
So let us chart our way
Prepare ingredients each new day.
Follow our recipes forward,
turn every bite into our best endeavor.
