It can go on Apples,
Bread,
By itself.
You say it for a photograph,
One to place
On a shelf,
To be covered up by many books,
Words and thoughts
That some may know.
But it also sits within the fridge,
Taking time,
Little, to grow
Mold that could ****
One who tastes it,
Inadvertently, of course.
With all these questions
One could ask,
Are they ever on the source?
"Cows, silly,"
Comes the reply,
Simply, in a passive way.
And so it's settled,
And more is bought,
While another has a price to pay.