At dawn, the dough is kneaded,
and the world is lit,
the apron is on,
the hat too,
he is our man, the pizza man,

“Soft but not too soft,”
he tells his sue chef,
“The sauce should be made”
“Not too much”
says our guy,

The sun is rising,
the aroma aiming for the chimney,
our man smiles joyfully,
gets teary and says,

Mozzarella is grated,
the pineapple and bacon sliced,
Hawaiian it is,
my man brings out the champagne,

The oven is red hot,
the crust is getting crunchy,
like a Picassos painting,
our man adds alongside a moonwalker,

The customers flood in,
Hungry for a slice,
The dames and guys,
all compliment the chef,

A chef secretive like his recipe,
wipes his forehead,
goes about cooking,
never being a letdown,
my guy returns to the kitchen.

By Joy Kirima.

Posted by

Still learning more under the sun.

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