Oatmeal Omelet Poem by Kim Barney

I made an oatmeal omelet once,
especially for my kids.
My children thought I was a dunce;
they thought I'd flipped my lid.

It was nutritious, it was filling,
of that there was no doubt,
but to them it was not thrilling;
they wanted me to throw it out.

I thought it was great; it was keen,
a simply marvelous stuff,
but to them looked rubbery and green;
they couldn't complain enough.

The taste was fine, I told them then,
but they didn't realize
the color didn't matter when
you simply closed your eyes!

Plead as I might, my stubborn kids
would not give it a taste.
I ate my share, I really did
and the rest just went to waste.