Cheese, if you please,
makes me weak in the knees.

Even high in the trees
where sun dapples the leaves,
My mind will still wander
to think on a cheese.

Even crafting from peas
an elaborate frieze,
I cannot help else – but
to dwell on a cheese.

And were I to blunder
and fall through a fence,
I shouldn’t be startled
to land on a cheese.

For elegant ease,
and creamy surprise,
not much can exceed the
sweet grasp of a cheese

Engineered to be lovely
and easy to slice,
very little succeeds
like the gift that is cheese.

Cheese, if you please,
makes me weak in the knees