It's what's for dinner.

 

I’m on the verge of something

about to lose my balance,

It’s better than a dumpling

and requires cooking talent,

there was a time - I would choke

the pressure was immense –

tasty things went up in smoke

then scraped into past tense.

This time though, it’s different

I’ve wrapped it all in dough,

doubled up the butter

and I’m cooking it real slow.

It will have a scent of heaven

and be in time for lunch,

it will feed up to eleven

and have a little crunch,

it may not look appealing

though I’ve picked off all the scales

no longer does it face you

without its heads or tails,

It hasn’t any gristle, hairiness or carbs

It hasn’t any GMO’s

I’ve pulled off all the barbs,

It might be somewhat chewy

don’t eat the part that swells,

Scrape off the stuff that’s gooey

ignore the way it smells.

Best if served by candlelight

keep away from sparks

never feed the leftovers

to anything that barks.

 

Really, I mean it.