You eat your porridge at such speed
That I wonder how your teeth
Doesn’t melt from such humidity.
It sure look delicious,
From the way each scoop
Easily slides down your throat
With every gulp you take,
And how it stains your clothes
Like sticky puddles of snow.
You can't even see the porridge
Through all that steam,
But you could never resist
He looks in my direction, saying,
"There is no better way to thank a meal
Than to quickly invite it
For a one night stay in your stomach."
But over here,
On the other side of the table,
I can't afford to scald my tongue
And sear my taste buds.
I want to savor the porridge's sweet nature
And praise such creamy texture --
Every grain must be welcomed
Before they enter.
Yes, they can roll down my gullet
Or blot my dress in haste
(After they reach the right place
In my thermometer).
So I sit here and wait
Before their tempers cool down
As I watch my father lick his spoon clean.
I have to say,
It's a long and lonely wait.
But no matter,
As long as I eat my way.
I suppose there are diners
Who can handle the fire in their jaws
And those who prefer chewing
Through the warmth of their cheeks.
Oh, there's no need to worry,
We can still sit together.
Candlelight never minds the flame.
Stay here for just a minute;
I'll bring some pie and coconut flakes.
Even our slices will be different in shape,
But who doesn't want their very own plate?
You should all join us for dinner someday.
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