Tomatoes, you see, are so very sick…
With colors so bright, and a versatile shtick.
Grow them yourself, or buy in a store,
These plump rosy dumplings, I truly adore.
Whether sliced or crushed, cooked, or fried.
There’s just no wrong way, they can be applied!
Is it a vegetable, or is it a fruit?
To me that is such, a pointless dispute.
But if made to pick, its optimal form
My choice would be easy, please let me inform:
It wouldn’t be on pasta, but that’s runner up,
But tomatoes on pizza, now that is what’s up.
Spread on a cloud, of freshly pressed dough,
With balls of mozzarella, to contrast its glow.
Placed in an oven, 900 degrees…
Charred to a crisp, yet soft when it’s squeezed.
Cut it or fold it, there is no wrong way.
Oh Pizza, my love, I never will stray.
And god bless tomatoes, and all of their might,
For if loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
* The purpose of this wonderful poem will become clear very, very soon….wait for it…..