The Singing Toaster

The sun peeked in, a golden slice, Across the kitchen, oh so nice! The fridge hummed low, the kettle sighed, And in the corner, something spied…

A shiny Toaster, chrome and bright, Woke with a shudder, filled with light! He stretched his slots and gave a yawn, "Another breakfast? Since the dawn!"

Then, POP! A voice, both loud and clear, "Good morning, world! The bread is here!" It was the Toaster, singing free, A breakfast opera, wild with glee!

Two slices of Bread, all fluffy and white, Woke with a start, a morning fright! "He's singing again!" one whispered low, "Prepare for tanning, watch us glow!"

A Child ran in, with messy hair, And giggled loud, beyond compare. "The Toaster's singing! What a treat! He makes the toast taste oh so sweet!"

The Toaster sang of buttered bliss, Of crunchy edges, sealed with a kiss. He sang of jam, of marmalade bright, A breakfast ballad, pure delight!

He toasted the Bread a golden brown, While dancing jigs, all up and down! The Bread popped up, with happy sighs, "The Singing Toaster is a prize!"

The Child grabbed plates, and knives so small, And spread the jam on, one and all. With happy tummies, full and round, The best breakfast ever could be found! The Toaster winked, a cheerful spark, "Tomorrow morning? Same time, same lark!"