A poem for Erica in iambic tetrameter
My love went to the grocery store
Returning home with donuts for
The man she married (yes, that’s me).
The box held six, or two by three.
My eyes caressed those lovely rings
Adorned with sweet and sprinkly things.
Such airy dough well-raised by yeast!
In lieu of dinner, a man could feast.
But what’s a meal without a drink?
I grabbed a mug out of the sink
And poured a roast both black and neat
Then microwaved for ample heat.
‘Round and round the coffee turned
Reheating dregs that often burned.
As I inhaled the donut’s scent,
My wife recounted carbs she’d spent.
Nearby, our baby cruised the floor
While grandma chased her looking for
Diapers, wipes, a change of clothes—
Did gremlins steal them? Heaven knows.
“Enough,” I said. “No more delays!
These donuts tempt in scrumptious ways.”
With mug in hand and donut ready,
My belt drawn slack and focus steady,
I took a bite, then two, then three—
Delight, oh joy! Sweet ecstasy!
My stomach full, my heart content,
I thanked my wife for having went