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In Riverdale's realm where rabbits would feast, This sweet spot's been baking since 1986 at least. Orange roots are transformed to pure heaven above, In a cream-cheese crowned treasure that New Yorkers love.
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Where blooms light up like stars at night, In Chelsea's garden of pure delight. When Broadway needs a floral flair, And Lily's story found its Atlas there, This bright spot's bouquets take center stage with flair.
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A love affair with slices, unashamedly displayed, On Union where romance and dough get made. Public displays of pizza art within these bounds, Where passion by the slice astounds.
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Where hand-whipped dreams still float on top, And time forgot to make clocks stop. On Metro Ave where treats run deep, Where Queens' sweet history we keep.