I came to the kitchen
To get a quick drink
I opened the fridge
And paused there to think
So many choices
Yet only one thirst
The answer inside me
Was ready to burst
Of course it was OJ
What else would I choose
Plain water is boring
And milk stains my shoes
I grabbed a small glass
Then went for the large
No thinking of reason
My thirst was in charge
I ripped off the cap
And started to pour
I gulped down that glass
And poured out some more
I lift up the glass
All ready to drink
When I stop for a moment
I stop and I think
Why isn't orange juice orange?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That's cute, so what was in the glass?