Poetry time!

Ode to Dove Eggs
An Egg is not a Heart, and yet
The chocolate tastes as good, I'll bet.
And like the Heart, the Egg, I'm sure
Knows places where it can endure.
On ass, on thigh, on poochy tum,
On every part (except my thumb).
"No more! Go jogging!" Good Sense begs--
Oh, what the hell, just one more Egg.