The way to my heart
is a White Russian milkshake.
It’s that easy.
I wish it wasn’t.
I used to think love was about
round rosy cheeks or
raised eyebrows up close or
the folds and the tunnels
of an ear
the crevices in a top lip
the dents in a grin
but
I’m finding that it is just about food,
and who will bring me a
milkshake at 2 AM.
Karen Ann Frederick, USA
The Social Poet 