It was a cold Tuesday,

My young mine perceived,

That it was chocolate,

Or so I believed.

My dad hands it over,

No words to explain,

In my mouth it goes,

And so begins pain…

The shock and the startle,

For it was not sweet,

An alien food,

No alien would eat,

The bitterness, dread,

Disgust, coalesce….

I run to my room,

In emotional distress.

I’m scared to tell dad,

That it’s something I hate,

So I spit under the chair,

But it was too late!

He walks in, but doesn’t

Seem to see,

“Did you make a mess?”

“No”, I say meekly.

He looks towards the chair,

And examines underneath,

Then rises to his feet,

“Okay,” and then he leaves.

Surprised, I have a look,

And there’s no gravy mess,

I scratch my head and sign,

And live my life clueless.