pickled fragrance pushing towards
an open space of heathered green
slowly creeps the daybreak's chords
into the eyes of an angsty teen
A smothered waffle fell into the gutter,
much to the chagrin of a doting chef.
"Oh, look how I wasted all of that butter!
Now how am I s'posed to clean up this mess?"
"Pick me up! Pick me up!" the waffle was screaming,
"The ten-second rule doth apply to my case!"
The chef blinked his eyes, for he thought he was dreaming.
How could a baked good put him in his place?
"Oh well," the chef shrugged, "He's probably right."
So he bent down and picked up the soggy ol' thing
"Wow, this is disgusting. So long, appetite."
And he threw it, with all his might, into the sea.
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