Oh thee of spud
Which I dug from mud.
How many ways to cook?
I think I shall take a look.
Fried, roasted, and boiled
To cook the tuber of soil
Mashed, salted, and steamed
I think I'm living the dream.
Ah, but I forget!
There's one way better yet!
Topped with a fried egg.
Yes, to me you might beg
To not list all the ways
Of cooking an egg.
YOU ARE READING
Cacti & Paper Airplanes
PoetryDeep collection of prickly sweet poems and songs. Topics range from friendship and exploring the life of inanimate objects to murder, greed, and death. Darker tone emerges later in the collection. Cheers!
