Today’s a special day and I’ve eagerly woken
to the irresistible smell and sound of sizzling cooked bacon.
Two slices of soft white bread thickly cut
buttered with lots and lots of ketchup.
Inside a ton of rashers stacked nice and high
of the back variety that’s been cured and air dried.
It’s important that it’s crispy, lean and well cooked
then layered thick as in any one book.
And before the juices begin to slowly escape
with both hands grasp the bulging shape.
Close your eyes and open your mouth wide
for what looks and tastes good will soon be inside.
However, be warned that if you should slip up,
you’d be covered in gooey ketchup.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem