How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee redness and thickness to the deepest depths
My starch can reach, when you are out of sight
For the ends of my tips and ideal face.
I love thee tangy taste to the level of every day
Most idly by, you quietly drip over winding grace.
I love thee freely, as sauces strive for right.
I love thee purely, as a tomato on the vine.
I love thee with the passion as we join
In my potato head griefs, and with my spud like faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my potato eyes. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my potato bros; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better in death after
We are consumed in feast and harmony