Ode to Frosted Mini Wheats Part 2

Oh Frosted Mini Wheats, how you have forsaken me,

You left me in the cold of winter in the dark of night,

For months I craved your sugary goodness,

Only to be denied.

The grocers' shelves were empty,

featuring strawberry and regular flavors.

No matter how I searched, how many boxes I overturned,

You were gone, and honey bunches of oats became my savior.

How I longed for your sweet taste,

The crunchy texture and milky residue!

Yet I sat night after night staring at my bowl,

Filled with bran flakes that I knew couldn't compare to you.

Why, oh why, did you leave me, Frosted Mini Wheats?

Rather than make a clean exit, you lingered,

flaunting your sweet taste in commercials

your ghost haunting the shelves, only to be strange boxes obscured.

The pain you caused me was only slight,

compared to the cravings you left me with.

Rather than be strong and apathetic,

I clutch a spoon, lost and completely pathetic.

For what other person craves your taste

At midnight or early in the morn,

What other person can sit at breakfast,

And wish you were still around?

It seems you have redeemed yourself, dear mini wheats,

For you grace the shelves of Wal-Mart.

Imagine my surprise to find you so easily

On a random shopping trip.

Hysterical with culinary joy,

I grabbed three of your boxes,

only to rush home and rip them open

to hurriedly pour dozens and dozens.

Milk couldn't rush into a bowl fast enough,

turning your once dry state into a Mini Wheat delight,

Carefully I dipped my spoon into the bowl,

And closed my eyes at that first cautious bite.

It was! You were!

You were the same as you always were,

sugary and tasty, full of tasty fiber,

Several bites passed in a blur.

By the time I regained consciousness,

my cereal was gone,

the bowl drained of everything

except for the last few crumbs.

So dear mini wheats, I'm glad you've returned,

To your rightful place in my pantry.

For the only spot I'd rather you occupy,

is the space in my tummy.