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A Chicken Salad Ballad


My doorbell rang and before me stood,

A friendly face in our neighborhood.


She said, “You look puny, pale and pallid.

You could use my home-made chicken salad.”


I pried open the lid once she had gone

And inhaled the scent of sweet tarragon.


After a bite of its rich, piquant flavor

I vowed to nibble, the better to savor.


Just a few bites lest my tummy riot

At the change from my insipid diet.


But each chunk surpassed the one just before.

Soon I was gobbling down more and more.


Now I confess, I’m embarrassed to say,

I ate the whole damn dish in just one day.

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