Ode To the Cheese Crispito
Although we all know it,
you can't spell out perfection,
and our stomachs to it we commit,
under our seasoned inspection,
the smell is in the air,
so thick we can almos taste its glory,
O how we try to not stare,
and like a wolf with its quarry,
we leap at it with great joy,
the texture O so splendid,
unmatchable by any false decoy,
the only thing we ever did,
was eat the Crispito.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
