A breaded blanket basks in the oven heat
weaved together with whole grain wheat.
But after a stormy run of sesame,
leaves behind the face of a freckled dame.
This will be my burger.

Ketchup or mustard,
why must the choice be so hard?
Maybe something new to savor,
like mayonnaise, so full of flavor.
This will be my burger.

Lettuce, with green cut straight from the forest.
Tomato, redder than an angry sergeant’s behest.
Onion, purple as rich as it is royal under the bun.
Cheese, displaying oranges parallel to the sun.
This will be my burger.

The grilled meat sobs tears of grease,
while the aroma it gives puts me at peace.
As the meat shades from red to pink and to a solid brown,
I watch the clock till it’s time to chow down.
This will be my burger.

Now inclosed in another bun,
with all these condiments it weighs a ton.
Thrown on a plate with a side of fries,
before me lies my final prize.
This is my burger.

NOM! NOM! NOM!
This was my burger.