Orange Juice, I Ordered

A breakfast mixup and the strange aftermath

A beautiful morning, it was.
Hungry, I turned out to be.
To a restaurant, I did venture.
Out of the ordinary, nothing was.

The menu, I did look at.
An omelet, I did desire.
Hash browns, and wheat toast, the sides will be.
Orange juice to drink, when asked, I replied.
Order, I did.

Delicious, it was.
Satisfied hunger, it did.
“Everything good?” waiter did ask.
“Good, everything was,” I replied.
Surprised at my response, I was.

“Would you like to try some cherry pie for desert?”
Asked, the waiter did
“There is no try, only do.”
“Alright, I’ll bring a slice right away.”

Panic, I did.
Happening to me, what was?
Understand, I could not.

Pie, I did eat.
Check, I requested.
Examine the check, carefully, I did.
Shocking truth, I learned.

Orange Juice, I ordered.
Yoda Juice, I got.
Talk this way, I have, ever since.

Waiter, not wearing hearing aid.
Gone back, I have not.

Old bones. Young heart. Focusing on a wide variety of creativity. @markstarlin

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