I see these
As my conscious years;
Hyper-aware of my surroundings.
I taste a piece
Of yesteryears;
A simple aperitif.
Now I chew
A heavy meal;
With many a bone to pick.
I long to
Push aside the dish;
And order sweet desert.
I know too well
To trust my gut;
The sweet will one day come.
Still I loath to chew
Unseasoned meats;
Knowing veggie I'll always be.