My comfort foods are piping hot.
They never fail to hit the spot.
I’ll savor solace that they’ve brought,
And when I’m done, my coffee pot.
For where is comfort in cold foods,
That cannot warm cold attitudes
And never will they change foul moods.
There’s nothing cozy in cold foods.
But I could swear that buttered rolls
Can hinder malice in cold souls,
As can hot pies and big warm bowls
Of soups and stews and casseroles.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018, DAY 8: COMFORT FOOD