Chili

In the market's ruby glow,
A chilli rests, its skin aglow,
Whispering heat through summer's air,
A crimson promise, sharp and fair.

When sliced, it sings a fiery tune,
Its flavour dances, bold and immune,
A tongue‑touched tale of sunshine's kiss,
In every bite, a blissful bliss.

The scent ascends, a smoky sigh,
A peppered perfume, pure and shy,
Yet lurks a heat that claws the throat,
A daring dare that lovers note.

So raise a glass, let fire play,
In chilli's kiss we find our way,
A spicy sonnet, red and bright,
That warms the soul and ends the night.