(on the subject of "delayed gratification" by @brumblehag which led to me reading about the Stanford marshmallow experiment)
My childhood marshmallows were accumulated
slowly, in fifteen minute increments as Mom
set one on the table but said if I waited
I would get a second, then a third, and so on
it went through my younger years, then adolescence
ss well, my bedroom closet swollen with white fluff
corn syrup sugars whipped into U.S. essence;
and yet still I resist the temptations to stuff
my face with false nutrition in order to acquire
more, though ultimately it all has no value
or practical real World use, unless a bonfire
breaks out for millions with sticks but nothing to do.
I’ve achieved marshmallow wealth, white eagles will soar;
this sonnet is really just money metaphor.
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