itches my ears
I sprint downstairs
then sock slide across
the laminate flooring
nearly toppling the trash
as I swing the cabinet
wide, and grab the big bowl
with the comfy handle
then to the stove
I scurry, my mouth wet
with anticipation
lid lifted, steam spreads
I see the thick stew
rustic and simple
pan seared chuck
seasoned with spices
and soft soaked potatoes
whose soul has assimilated
to the soup
giving it body
the first few bites
burn my tongue a bit
but I hardly care
I know the warmth will pass
but let me savor it,
while it lasts
I'll forget the cold
