Honeyed Toast

She hated the substance
spread across her toast
Most thought it was sweet
she thought it was gross
What about cinnamon sugar?
Or even plain butter?
Why did it have to be honey
to go with her supper?
The sight made her stomach churn
all thick and goopy
If her mom thought she would eat it
the woman was loopy
Though the texture was revolting
the taste was the worst
She picked up the toast
and mumbled a curse
She tried to distract herself
with thoughts of pizza or cheese
But the vile, disgusting flavor
nearly took her to her knees
She finally swallowed
breathed a sigh of relief
Gave her mom the stink eye
took a bite of roast beef
She had to eat it all
every bite of the toast
Or no ice cream for dessert
which she loved the most
Why honey of all things?
Why when they knew her dislike?
How could anyone like it?
it was a horrible sight
Some put it in yogurt
or even in their tea
Others liked it with fruit
sometimes strawberries
Mixed in with water
to soothe a sore throat
Though it never mixed well
nasty chunks would float
As she thought of the ways
that honey was served
She glanced down at her plate
and was greatly disturbed
For there was nothing she hated
more than the dreaded honey
Except what was sitting there now
a pile of steaming broccoli

Copyright © 2018 Ashley Uzzell


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