Ode to the Fridge

Ode to the Fridge

Oh, sweet white box, seated in the corner

filled with frozen air and treats of all kinds.

Apples and oranges, milk and water.

Cheese and cheesecake, the Sprite and Crush declines.

Leftover lentils, cold leftover fries,

leftover chicken, and leftover beans.

Rodents beware! for its greatness denies

the rest of you, from chowing on my greens.

The cupboard pales when it compares content

with the cool white container of my life.

Oh how it wishes it could store fondant

or be the sole reason behind my knife.

So label me a discriminator,

but I will love my refrigerator.

This is a sonnet. Yes, I am fully aware that it probably doesn't follow iambic pentameter. I don't care. Sue me. (actually please don't that'd be great)