A tiny sloth, a snail so slow,
A piglet pausing, soft and low.
My daughter eats, with thoughtful grace,
Each bite a journey, in time and space.
The world may rush and hurry by,
But she finds joy in every bite,
A symphony of taste and sight,
A gentle feast beneath the sky.
So let her savour, slow and sweet,
Each morsel is a tasty treat,
For in this world of fleeting speed,
Her table is a world indeed.
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