Years ago, morning greeted me well

Fruits, corn flakes, breakfast used to be so swell

Then sleep intervened and so did work

Passing udipis and hogging souls gave me a smirk

Outside food became my bitch

Home tried wafers and crap, as if that was going to stitch

Breakfast came through the hawkers stall

Home food yearned, it was my bad, t’was my gall

Now hope is lost and stalls have taken over

To my pangs of good breakfast, this is just a small cover

Then office changed and canteen was born

Even that too wasn’t great, I continued to scorn

So, here I pledge to act when I move out,

New dishes will emerge, and for them I will scout

And then food will taste good and I won’t whine

I’ll be the chef who makes my mornings divine


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