Spaghetti Sonnet
Behold, the lovely, uncooked strand
Emerging from its packaged home
It begs to be described in tome,
A stalk so straight as to be planned
With architecture's measured hand.
The stem that wilts in boiling foam
May look the same in France as Rome
But woe to those who eat it canned!
As silently it boils away,
The sauce in simmering splutter sighs,
Then they combine in savory play
In love's first taste, then straight to thighs.
Spaghetti's starchy-rich delight
Is one for any noon or night!
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written works © April Palleria, 2002