Ode to the Waffle

waffles win breakfast hearts

A pancake’s smooth, a golden plain,

A circle soft, but rather tame.

It soaks up syrup, sure enough,

But leaves no room for waffle-stuff.

The waffle stands with gridiron pride,

Square pockets lined on every side.

Each tiny cup a butter bed,

Where jam and honey rest instead.

No river spills, no syrup floods,

Each square’s a pool of amber goods.

A kingdom built of crispy walls,

A bite-sized feast where sweetness calls.

So raise your fork, oh breakfast knight,

For waffles win the morning fight.

Their secret lies in pockets deep

Where treasures of the table sleep.