Donut! Thou shouldst be living in my gut.
Eaten for my breakfast (with cup of joe)
Filled with custard, or plain, iced dough,
Yet still abide you on store shelf, but
I am Hungry! Not just somewhat,
But famished, starving, full of woe,
Blood sugar level critically low,
So weak I cannot get off my butt.
So I will hatch a devious plan,
For I must have you, many of you.
And I will get you if I e’er can;
I know exactly what I must do.
“Children,” spake I, “Help your old man.
Go get some donuts, for me and you, too.”