Samosa: an ode

I first had a real Samosa at lunch-time

In the city of Ventura was where we dined

We were received at the King’s table

At the front of the house

Not knowing our taste buds would be ready or able

We sat quiet in anticipation, much like a little mouse

The food soon arrived, appetizers first

We drank the fizzy water, of course, to quench our thirst

Love at first bite I would go on to declare

There wasn’t much left of that lovely samosa pair

We crunched and we crunched ’til all was gone

Then dreamed of the next samosa vacation

Of which we knew the wait would not be long

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