At leisure or in modest hurry
To Atwater's the hungry scurry
They feast on lovely, huge gazpacho
That's seasoned for the truly macho.
Their bread is fresh with crisp aroma
Deserving a first prize diploma.
Cukes, onions, peppers, parsed just right
Float in the red, a pretty sight.
Then there is salad, healthy, green
For those who like their figure lean,
And if you've had calories none
All of the good can be undone.
With lovely, scrumptious ice cream cones,
The kind that causes "Oohs" and moans
That should be savored with closed eyes
In little licks, and deepest sighs.
At Atwaters in Belvedère
The home of yummy, wholesome fare
You can eat wisely and with care
While you deflate your tire spare.
The Hungry Poet
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