Granny Butter For Her Honey

In a kitchen warmed by afternoon sun,

Where the clock tick-tocks but time seems to run

With a slower pace, as if it knows

There’s a magic here that quietly grows.

Granny, with hands both gentle and wise,

Moves with a rhythm that love quantifies.

She’s crafting a snack, simple and sweet,

For Nessa, her joy, soon to eat.

On the counter, there’s butter, soft and spreadable,

Beside a jar of honey, golden and credible.

She mixes them together with a tender care,

Knowing that love is the best flavor to share.

Nessa waits with a giggle, her eyes all aglow,

Watching as Granny puts on a show.

With a spoon and a bowl, and a whisk in her hand,

She turns simple ingredients into something grand.

The toast pops up, warm and just right,

Ready to be covered in honey-butter light.

Granny spreads it thick, each stroke a sign,

Of love that’s as sweet as the honey, as deep as the brine.

She cuts the toast into triangles, neat and precise,

And offers it up, an edible paradise.

Nessa takes a bite, her face alight with glee,

In this moment, there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

For in each bite, there’s more than just a snack,

There’s a story of love, no essential lacking.

Granny and Nessa, in their cozy kitchen scene,

Prove that the simplest things can mean everything.

So here’s to the grannies, with their wisdom and their butter,

And to the Nessa’s of the world, hearts all aflutter.

May we all have a moment, so simple and so sweet,

Where love is the snack, and the company, a treat.