Finally done with housework and those tiresome chores

Clorox cleaner has my hands smelling like ultra-sanitized air molecules

Cough from the chemical fog inhaled for the last thirty minutes

Hear my mother’s melodic voice say, “Boy foods ready”

Run up the hall, turn the corner, barely miss hitting my head on the hallway bend

Sit down at the table, and watch the steam ris from the bowl like summer vapors

The O’s, are swimming in the red tomato broth, enticing me to join them 

Hustle that spoon into my twelve-year-old hand, scooping with exuberant vigor

Take that first bite, and the world around me slows to a sloth’s pace 

Gobble the other O’s so fast, feeling like Pacman chasing the ghosts after a power pelt

Scramble from the table, licking my lips and thanking mom for such a “Scrumptious lunch”

Outside to play, with thoughts of those magical O’s and their delectableness bopping in my head