Food (Comida)

Comida! Comida! how refreshing on the lips.
A gastronomic melody, wrathful on the hips.
Your aroma evokes memories of articulate verbose.
Fragrant inhaled ardor, no guilt nor morose.
Life giving abundance as you wrap around,
This poor starved lover whose devotion knows no bound.
Appealing to the eye while passing through the portal.
Alas this starved cross love is only mortal.
Comida! Comida! restraint has been broken.
Reaching out with empty hands for a small token.
Of the love woken,
In me.