Oh, tomato so red,
plucked straight from the vine.
Ripened to perfection,
and watered on time.
What joy feels my heart,
as you lay on my plate.
tenderly washed,
and prepared for your fate.
Gently I cut
slice after slice,
juicy and sweet
and better then nice.
Mmmm Mmmm Mmm
Mmm Mmm Mmm,
Sorry there is no word
besides good.
Oh, tomato, I love you.
I savor your taste.
I promised to never
eat you in haste.
Poor Steven, poor man,
He will never be a fan.
You see dear tomato,
He is a squash man.
4 comments:
He He He you are so funny. It is too bad that Steven is a squash man because tomatoes can be so inspiring. Obviously.
That is such a cute poem.
I love it! You're hilarious!
Way to go michelle, I never knew you were a poet! Mom
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