Can nostrils be envious?
‘Tis a sly question I ask.
Because she chose rye.
Toasted of course!
Slathered in melting butter.
Oh... the intoxication~
Imagine my smell o’ meter peaking.
The needle sprung in a full tilt boogie,
Pegged as they say…
Enticed into a slice of my own.
So lavishly prepared by she
My partner of 43 years.
If only my tastebuds dated hers
They’d get high on Rye together
In lovely yums.
Care to share those crumbs?