Lettuce, eaten or drunk, tastes much worse than fries.
…let us eat and drink; for to morrow we die (1 Cor. 15:32).
Heft me not, not my carriage; once dined
-There’ll be impediments. Dove isn’t dove,
Altered into Carob to preserve our behinds
No no! It is an abomination and something that rhymes with ‘mark.’ -Or ‘remove.’ Oops.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark…
Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare
©2022 Chel Owens
I had to try my hand at the terrible poetry theme for this week. Dieting is part of aging, right? I’m not going to have time to post results till late today or tomorrow, so go ahead and enter if you missed your chance.