It was a long summer
of pastries and Pavarotti.
Little did I know,
craving donuts and opera
would bake up a tasty cream puff
with a mouth wide for song.
Not till that judge tossed his pencil
and leaned back in his chair,
did I realize your splendid bakery.
Sometimes the recipe was wrong,
but you opened those brave chops
and sang like a daughter of God.
The ovens have been hot.
Your crust is not as tough as it seems.
After the wild flour settles,
your sweet bel canto
puts Krispy Kremes to shame.
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