I got migraines and threw up milk a lot when I was a kid
(this poem is currently in competition)

This is an apology to
all the milk that I have bypassed
to all those glasses that I left un-drunk
and to all those mustaches that I left unworn.

You seem almost poetic to me at times
from moo-ing cows in sweet smelling hay mows
virgin-like white and simple and rich and maternal.

But then the taste comes to mind again
it�s just so hard to down
so hard to finish off that last bit in the mug
even with a dab of chocolate
even though I keep changing percentages.

So I realize your beauty and practicality
and I apologize.

Lastly
this is an apology
to my bones and teeth.
Sorry.

copyright 2001 by devon