I dreamed a dream of bread gone by,
When carbs were high,
And food worth eating.
I dreamed that bread would never die,
I dreamed that God would help with baking.
Then I was full and satisfied,
And bread was made and used and wasted.
There was no chometz to be sold,
No bread unbaked,
No food untasted.
But the angel came at night,
With the blood as red as crimson.
Then the rabbis sold my Chometz away
And they replaced my bread–with– crrr—aaaa-ccc–kkeers
Now Pesach has killed,
The bread I dreamed.
I remind myself, it’s only one day more, another day another Matzah brie. As proof that matzah is not fit for consumption, I dropped a piece matzah with lox and cream cheese on it. My dog managed to slurp up the fish, but ignored the matzah, and didn’t bother going after the crumbs. Now back to munching on my matzah and cheese sandwich.