Just Past

Poured the cereal, crunchy and dry,

then tipped the carton, with a morning sigh.

A familiar white stream, thick and cold,

a story as common as stories are told.

But a faint, sour tang, it pricked at the air,

a ghost of what's good, a subtle despair.

Not fully gone, not completely bad,

just a hint of something, that makes you feel sad.

Dumped the whole bowl, into the sink's drain,

a waste of good food, a tiny, sharp pain.

Some things you can't push, you can't make them last,

they turn in a moment, just fading so fast.