The stove was looking lonely
The pots and pans, so comely.
The fridge door opened slowly
And the chicken slide out lowly.

The parmesan cried out in despair
Feeling forgotten in the tepid air.
If I can find my favorite apron
I will wrestle down that tasty capon.

Fire up the marinara
Oh, Holy, Holy, Gloriana.
I need some pine nuts pretty slick
To strengthen my gravy, quick, quick, quick.

My old, trusty sauce pan is at fault
In go onions, garlic, sale.
Along with peppers, tomatoes, and a wink!
My sauce is almost ready, I think!

Pound the chicken, add the cheese.
Bring out the sauce, add it please.
So, now my dish is complete.
About this poem, hit delete!