One Is The Morsel... [snacking; Writing Rhymes; Personal; Short]

One is the morsel I popped into my mouth. I chewed it, swallowed it, and it’s heading ‘South’. Now I’ve had six, I think, while writing this verse. It’s NOT sugar-coated, which sometimes …… is a tooth’s curse. Seven or eight I’m up to at my last uncertain count. If I were using a spoon, that number I would surmount …. in one healthy spoonful, complete with some milk, and some nuts, banana, or berries, or food of that ilk. But today I’m concentrating more on writing than eating, so I take one dry morsel into my mouth and go on repeating. Only a dozen perhaps of these oat-wheat-barley morsels have passed ….. into my stomach so far, as I’m eating sloooowlyy, not fast. Without the milk [about sixteen now] the morsels are dry, and the crumbs at the back of my throat are making me cry. Well, not “cry” exactly, but the irritation ….. which they cause, made one tear spring forth from my left eye …… and pause. Yes, it paused over my cheek bone, and now it has dried up. I call out: “Dear! Bring me some milk, PLEASE ……., at least half a cup.” (April 7, 2015)