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.