O’ Ketchup! My Ketchup!

0
The poet posing with his muse

Replaced, by the week.

Ketchup, my love, stay with me.

Do not be taken away.

The caf, the ketchup.

Bright metal, standing proudly.

A flavor obelisk.

No longer hoarded.

No longer empty, all day.

No longer, I cry.

Ketchup, joy to all.

Never empty, always fixed.

Just a press away.

Black granite, white wall.

Frames it perfectly, ketchup.

The best part of caf.