Poetry about eating porridge in the rain.

There was no such poem before. Let me write an ancient poem for fun:

It was raining outside the window, and the porridge in the kettle boiled.

Suddenly I heard thunder in my stomach and I was hungry.

Press the door, the child will come back soon, and the child will run quickly in the rain.

The taste of porridge is mouth-watering, no matter how wet it rains.

Can't wait to pick up the bowl, fill the porridge and blow it down.