Okay, coming off a sick week, I can only think, you winsome you lose some. I know, kill me now!
I’m off to make oatmeal for dinner when I’m craving something Italian or Chinese, or BBQ, or simply anything with TASTE! I even thought of actually making some spaghetti for myself, but think I would be sorry later. So here’s a short attempt at a poem:
I have been sick
Tired of hearing it?
I don’t blame you
I need to eat
But my forehead heat
Defines my fare
Is that toast again there?
Not even buttered, just jam
Oh what I would give for some green eggs and ham.
Going to make that lovely white oatmeal now, dare I add cinnamon and raisins?