Down For The Count Poem by Ima Ryma

Tiz in my hand and then tiz not.
Not in my mouth but on the floor.
How many seconds have I got,
That I must grab the treat before
Bacteria all squat upon?
Five seconds be an olden rule.
But new findings keep dumping on.
Must check the moisture molecule.
Who counts the time or has the will?
So oft psychology does find,
When from my hand a treat does spill,
Tiz really matter over mind.

Dropped on the floor, treat does entreat,
C'mon - to eat or not to eat.