Food from Thought

Mama hates her bones
From her noses to her toes-es
She hates all her bones-es
I’ve always thought she had nice
Bones-es, good toes-es, fine noses
But Mama told me the truth through the mirror one night
Aunt says I have Mama’s noses
Gramma says I had Mama’s baby toes-es
That makes sense, after all
Me and Mama share everything
So I’m glad now I knows-es
I should hate my bones-es, too
It’s a very good thing to know, I think.