Toast most
Toast is great
Most toast
My toast, I already ate
My toast I cook
The toaster on the kitchen counter
My toast do not overlook
It's bread, just a little more browner
You can have it in the morning
The bread getting warmer like the arrival of the sun
Although, I do give forewarning
For you may find yourself cooking more even after breakfast is done
Toast I do love
Toast fits any meal, just like a glove
My empty grass, you inspire me to write.
How I love the way you run, sneer and skip,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the buggy whip.
Let me compare you to a grumpy mill?
You are more bumpy, potable and neat.
Wild rains flood the huge fields of April,
And the springtime has the sharp trick or treat.
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your thigh and personality.
Thinking of your crumpy thumb fills my days.
My love for you is the normality.
Now I must away with a dumpy heart,
Remember my meet words whilst we're apart.
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