This is a poem about cooking quiche,
And making more money than in a dream,
Writing, adding value, to one small niche.

A reply to a comment did unleash
A whirlwind of thought on this one theme,
On the utmost importance of cooking quiche.

This poem is not meant as a pastiche,
Nor, dear Muse!, to insult the regime,
But again to contribute to this small niche.

The dish _is_ important to the _nouveau riche_,
And when cooked with the best quality cream,
Nothing can compare to a well-cooked quiche.

And after their meal and a pipe of hashish,
They sit and ponder which coin to redeem;
And toss a few crumbs to a minor niche.

I write without the self-censorship leash,
Not curbing my rhymes with thoughts of STEEM,
'Cos we can all build success, cooking quiche;
But please don't forget the poetry niche.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Claude_Monet_-_Still_Life_with_Eggs.jpg

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Image: [_Still Life with Eggs_ by Claude Monet](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Claude_Monet_-_Still_Life_with_Eggs.jpg), at Wikimedia.

Thank you for reading @richardjuckes