I once had a dream, before I was a teen, a dream of a giant tomato.
It was that I confused, I was easily amused, between this and a spinning tornado.
In my grandmother’s home, I was not alone, joined by my family,
Through her kitchen window, we watched the wind blow, an attack for us all to see.
The tomato wore a crown, flying above the ground, my dear grandmother’s home.
It was joined by others, its tireless brothers, and not one left us alone.
Advice from my cousin, “Don’t open that oven,” I stood frightened on the kitchen floor.
But temptation grew, and soon I knew, I had to open that door. 
As the air sucked out, tossed the whole house about, and I held on with all I had,
Such a big mistake, I shook myself awake, me… a dreaming, dreaming lad.
Now that I’m older, upon my shoulder, I carry a giant tomato.
It’s silly and sad, when I was a lad; I confused this with a spinning tornado.
These days I savor, its full hearty flavor, I ask for it often with please.
And I grow my own, up from the loam, one of several varieties.
In salads and soups, especially big scoops, of when I turn it to paste,
Blended with spices, my tomato devices, I welcome its palatable taste.
Big Boy, and Better Boy, Roma and Jubilee,
Early Girl, and Champion, Fantastic and Sweetie.
Come harvesting season, and with good reason, I’m joined by my Labrador pup,
I pick from the vine, and squeeze over time, a giant bottle of ketchup.