The Cheese Not Eaten

The fork in the road in a yellow cheese
And sorry I could not eat the whole
Yet still into my clothes might squeeze
And move with any kind of ease
I must content with just the hole

Still I ate and belched and sighed
Till I found I must forsake it
The tined instrument I had spied
Such gluttony could not abide
When you come to a fork in a cheese in the road — take it.