O noble bulb, beneath the earth you hide,
With modest form, and strength you keep inside.
In layered depths your secrets lie concealed,
Yet once revealed, all taste and tears unsealed.

With blade in hand, we slice through ivory skin,
And thus begins the pungent dance within.
Our eyes betray the passion we release,
As flavors rise and harmony finds peace.

In stews and broths, your essence blooms anew,
In sizzle, crackle, steam, your spirit grew.
A silent hero gracing every plate,
O onion, humble, yet we celebrate.

For though you bring a tear to every eye,
In you, our simplest joys and comforts lie.