It’s almost time – that time again
When I can pick and choose
A salmon steak, a cold boiled egg –
Ma bouche will be amused.
To rid my palate of that taste
That taste which I do dread
Becomes my goal, my aim, my fight
I’d prefer most anything instead –
Seven horse pills I swallow whole
And gag with every one
To keep the cancer well at bay
I’ll continue till I’m done
The acrid smell, the vile taste
Lingers on my tongue
Until
The time arrives when I can eat
And that taste becomes undone.
Rejoice in food in which flavor reigns
Each morsel – every one
To taste of life, to sip of wine
A pleasure second to none!
High Flight 