She loved waffles. She was a waffle-lover. She would dream of them while she slept and while she was awake; their golden crispy edges dancing tantalizingly, their little grids of waffle-bumps repeating infinitely, their alluring scent drifting through the air, promising the almost devastatingly delicious explosion of maple-syrupy golden sweetness that would come with waffle-devouring.
O glorious, globous goo, You don’t know how much I love you. Pinkish substance, stretching mass, Imprint yourself upon my mind. You are quite silly, O Silly Putty. You stay with me through clean and muddy. Show me backwards newspaper print, Ball of glory, Egg-shaped beauty, Be careful not to pick up lint. Whether pancake, […]