The Potatoes My Dad Cooks
Let me now praise the potatoes my Dad cooks for truly they are epic,
for they come from the oven smelling so sweet, their smell delights my nostrils
and when they sit steaming in their dish, their crispy coatings delight my eyes
and when I take one up and bite it, the coating breaks with a crunch
and when I chew that mouthful, the mouthful delights my tongue
and then it delights my throat, and then, oh then it warms my insides,
for truly the potatoes of my Dad are epic. The potatoes of his enemies will fail.