A Poem

Ice Cream

I see the green ice cream
Atop the dark brown cone.
I see all the gorges in the school.
My tongue touches the ice cream.
My tongue feels the ice cream’s cold.
My taste buds taste the cold mintyness.
I lick the scoop,
And I feel free–
Free from the chains of reality,
Free the chains of the diet
I am on.
It feels wonderful

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