Tortellini, oh so tasty, with your insides full of stuff.
I could eat you for ten whole years and still not eat enough.
How could someone ingest that penne, so small and sad and hollow?
She is empty and boring and quite arduous to swallow.
Oh, tortellini, you are my life—without you I would cry.
If the pasta Gods had not created you, I’d surely want to die.
Your filling is so delightful, so delicate and light.
A brilliant mix of flavors that makes my tongue ignite.
My dearest tortellini, with words I cannot convey
The feelings that consume me when you’re served at a buffet.
When my plate is empty, devoid of yellow hue
I feel like a soldier who’s just bid his wife adieu.
Your cousin spaghetti is nothing but a flimsy string
But your folded shape and frilly edges make me want to sing!
If you were an heirloom, you’d be a diamond ring.
You are the queen of pasta, and I shall be your king.
-IBG