Sunday, June 19, 2011

Up and Away

I don't know what it's advertising;
I only know that it's surprising!
Who wouldn't notice this visual joke
With it's happy little airborne bloke?

Oh glory of the Winter months!
Though art its greatest boon!
See thy mistress lying back
In a warm, pre-porridge swoon!
While her servant goes below
To stir and microwave
Thy glorious mass of wickednes
For which, so much, I crave.
The minutes pass, the stomach groans,
I lie and lick my lips,
Impervious to thy subtle aim......
Thy substance on the hips!
I hear a footstep on the stair,
I rise from the supine
My servant is approaching
With the porridge! Ah divine!
Tenderly placed upon my lap
On a sort of cushion-tray
Is a dish of thy deliciousness!
What a way to start the day!
Brown sugar rings thy plenitude
Thick cream thy centre crowns,
In a mixture of cholesterol
Thy plain old oatness drowns!
It's winter! Let it rain and storm!
Let 'cardies' be habitual!
So long as there's porridge on Sundays
Winter brings my favourite ritual!

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