As I shop around in the Supermarket of Love,
I always seem to miss the signs up above.
Instead of going directly to the right aisle,
I wind up in the frozen foods for awhile.
Everything there is so cold and icy,
So why can't I find something hot and spicy.
I checked the next aisle for something that's mellow,
Instead, I found a brain made of Jello.
I thought I'd settle for a cute Frijole'
But wound up with a limp Ravioli.
I've shopped at this market all of my life,
and decided I really don't want to be a wife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely one, i do appreciate, thanks sharing