A Slow Fast
For reasons that I do not know,
A fast is never fast, but slow.
I check, but still have hours to go
And hope that I’ll get through it.
I missed the bagel that I’d eat,
The cheese and fruit, sliced up and sweet,
Plus cake to make the meal complete,
With coffee, once I’d brew it.
A yogurt here, some popcorn there,
Perhaps some grapes or, if I’d dare,
Dark chocolate, maybe just a square;
It’s tempting to say, “Screw it!”
But no, I’ll keep on with my fast
And soon, my waiting will have passed.
When sundown comes, I’ll say, at last,
“ I knew that I could do it!”
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