A crunch, a squish,
the grainy feel
balms the tongue and soothes.
The tangy taste of an onion cut
its water oozing, mixing,
with tomato juice.
The silver bowl
the meal's abode
shines in midnight light.
Tired girl, she sits by her bed
and savours a final bite.
The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2022. Day 15.
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