Feeling a mental drain
from a world gone insane,
from all the:
shooting after shooting,
political feuding;
tornado destruction,
no power conduction;
ice and snow storming,
damn global warming.
So down with the blues,
I turned off the news
and made soup.
Turning full attention
from normal convention,
I began to:
slice and sauté
garlic ‘n onions my way,
peel and cut spuds,
downing cold suds;
bring it all to a boil,
getting into the toil;
make fresh egg noodles,
by hit’n miss doodles;
happy ‘n high as a kite,
I stirred with delight,
making soup!
Cooking comfort food
helps calm this dude.
I must say:
it narrows the focus
on one’s own hocus pocus;
shuts out world reality,
opens now in totality;
remembering my mother,
a woman like no other;
who lifted my weary soul,
by simply serving a bowl.
Yes, I’ll sleep well tonight,
no longer uptight,
thanks to soup.