Pizza Poety

One of my "responsibilities" at work is coordinating the weekly Pizza Friday, which involves order the pizza and sending out an officewide e-mail saying when it is coming and whether it us from Waldy's or Patsy's. (Really, it could be from Patsy's every week, but people seem to appreciate my switching it up.) Soon pressure mounted to "top" myself with each weekly e-mail (hard to do when the information is slight and varies only nominally). Lately I've been playing with different forms of poetry: first a Haiku, then a Limerick, then a Double Dactyl, and, this week, a Sonnet. Surprisingly

I found iambic writing not too hard.

Anyway, I thought I should share my Ode to Friday:

A lunch upon which dreams and wishes hang
Awaits those seated on the seventh floor.
This food of which the angels often sang,
Of which mere mortals can but yearn for more.
Its mozzarella, provelone, and parm
And toppings rich with savory appeal
May cause the arteries some short-lived harm,
Yet makes a most rejuvenating meal.
It fends of winter’s harsh and bitter chill,
Returning warmth to hearts thought strained and cold,
And makes us think things can get better still,
Despite the warnings by Right-Wingers told.
For in these times of economic woe,
We look to noon, and Patsy’s golden dough.