Not Tomatoes
Brown, round, dirty
Might be curvy
Hand picked
Quite perfect
Is never alone
Can make you moan
Goes with head
Can be red
Sliced
Or diced
Wedged
On the edge
Stuffed
Is a must
Soak, Fry, Baked
With Steak
Potatoes
Oh what would I ever do without you
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: