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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