The whole world doth smell of bacon
And not one amongst the crowd protest.
I lean in close, risking burns,
The smell I love, hot grease detest.
The aroma has taken room and house
The smell shall remain lodged for long.
I tussle the pan, shifting the strips.
The crackle of cooking a joyous song.
I cease the burn and remove the reward.
The grease settles and the bacon steams.
I wait to devour the fruit of my labor.
The first bite, memories of loving dreams.
I finish the feast but the joy goes on.
I have ended my treat but not its smell,
lingering now, my ecstasy not gone.
My hungers, bacon doth always quell.