An Ode to Yeast

Yeast is a pleasure,
Meant to be treasured.
Thought to be measured in days.

But I've got a feeling,
That you will be reeling,
In an itchy, so twitchy, crotch craze.

Now I've heard it said
That you're better off dead
That you'll scratch it red, so the wise say.

It's like cottage cheese,
but it's more a disease,
That you'll wish you could freeze whilst you play.

It's like making a snack,
In your soft dewy crack,
A sweet sweetly packed for your lover's dismay.

But keep your head high,
Just away from your thighs,
And it may up and dry as you pray.