The heart leaves the tongue, tied

It cannot speak of the mind’s pride

The taste in thoughts is our future

Until it arrives, it is just a rumor

The tongue speaks, for the mind

It tells whether the mind’s refined

Beads of thoughts give it texture

By their softness, joy we can measure

The tongue tastes, morsels of food

Its verdict is often skewed

To the mind’s flighty appetite

The body endures that plight

Placed on a sensory diet

The tongue hardly stays quiet

When the mind can barely keep up

It’s time to ask the heart for backup