by Fred Miller
God crafted me this way, I reason. Yet with grit, shall I ask Him a favor? Make me strong without quibble, make me thin without question. No pugilist can I say I’ve been, but this is a fight to the finish. On scales I’ll stand, eyes shut, resolute and undaunted. A kaleidoscopic end I’d imagined rife with fear and promises unkept. Yet now, not an ort nor a nugget will I touch, not a single chocolate cluster will again cross my lips. In strength, I’ll be carefree and jaunty, and wear sizes long since forgotten. And with courage, I’ll hold back— following one more tiny little bite.
Fred Miller is a California writer. Over fifty of his stories and poems have appeared in publications around the world over the past ten years. Many may be found on his blog: https://pookah1943.wordpress.com