I don't want to cultivate bias,
Nor others' attitudes psyche.
The tales that are told are not pious
Of cereal that no one could like.
It may have been purchased by Mother,
Who found it was cheaper by far.
She set it out before the other,
That was pricey, as tasty things are.
She continued to set it out after,
The preferred ones had dwindled to naught
Although met by such scornful laughter,
She hoped they would eat what she bought.
While the new cereal snapped, popped and crackled,
The cereal that everyone spurned,
Only sat there while rude laughter cackled,
Even less-liked than oatmeal near- burned.
The days passed in rapid succession;
Back and forth from the table to shelf.
The disliked cereal prompted concession;
Mother said, "Then, I'll eat it myself."
When shopping, she now is much wiser;
Should her thrift trump, she's down with three strikes.
If she buys it, she'll eat like a miser,
The cereal that nobody likes.
©03/21/2012 Carol Morfitt Welch