The Cook: Compilation 07/08/2022

There was a little imp who liked to talk of food
a furtive little man, thought his was really good
an impetuous fellow who recollects his fave
employing all his wits for temptation he did cave
a bloviated rant loudly speaking of wet stuff
like a train whistle coming through a fog of smoky stuff
he dries his little face as he thinks about his past
knowing that he’d have to cook to make his boasting last.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

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