Life Is a Comfort Sandwich
Enjoy Every Bite
Ca,
Ca,
Ca,
Comfort is …
Blanketing the ocean over my strong slippery shoulders,
Inhaling the savory, salty, peppery potato-chip air,
Digging my teeny-tiny toes into
The mouth of a grand-dame river of gravy goodness,
And winking at the doorman of my mastermind.
Ca,
Ca,
Ca,
Comfort is …
Eating a peanut butter and banana, gooey guilty gargantuan sandwich,
Laughing loudly at a lingering joke,
Completing a New York Times crazy crossword in pen,
And marveling in Morse (wo) man code
At the volumes of sculpted, shapely superheroes.
Ca,
Ca,
Ca,
Comfort is …
Touching raindrops on rosy, red apple cheeks,
Wading waist-deep in a bathtub full of prepared pesto pasta,
Humming my favorite sappy sad songs,
Searching for wondrously witty words,
And sipping on sparkling sangria.
About the Creator
Samia Afra
I'm new to this, so go easy on me.
Keep reading
More stories from Samia Afra and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Delightful and comfortable!!! Love it!!!💖💕
So beautifully written! It made me want a sandwich, or maybe pesto, it definitely made me want something. I think your poem just forced a second lunchtime. So well done!