Satiate

A sausage on a string

Is a fine food just to bring,

Though it will not do a thing

To fix one’s hunger.

 

For it’s a little bit too short,

With too much difficulty fraught;

No, perhaps it’s not the sort

To fix one’s hunger.

 

Rather, some rainbow with a cloud

Dipped in honey, screamed aloud

Will likely be so proud

To fix one’s hunger!

 

Bursting hue and saturate tone

—Shared together/scoffed alone—

Could be licked to the bone,

To fix one’s hunger.

 

But aft the final munch

Bloated brunch, toasted crunch,

There comes twisted hunch

That I want hunger.