Fries ode

Tent and steaming,
Golden like the sun,
Fries condense joy of life and child-like behaviours.
Fingers are sticky,
oily stains on my dress,
And a bunch of fries
Like wedding bouquet
in my hands.

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Work prize

My body is soft
And weak to the fight
Telling me evolution might have not
Made me a favour.
Tasks get tougher worth the years
And thoughts more demanding
While the prize shines of gold and reputation.