The Waffle Waltz

Wet and dry items mixing together to combine

Flour, buttermilk, eggs, lemon juice, vanilla, sugar and that secret key ingredient

A lumpy and grainy batter with just enough texture to look scary

Don’t over stir or they could dry out I remind myself

I can smell the crackling bacon frying up in the pan

Only to be crumbled up into the cracks and crevices this concoction will inhabit

I have never been a fan of the frozen toaster kind

I have never had a problem letting go of someone’s Eggo

As much as I like to see my own being made

It is not an easy decision to heat up the device

Such a mess is created in seconds as the house begins to smell like a bakery

This is a house full of people, therefore morning alarms call for the smell of good grub

No greater gift can be given to someone than to make them a meal upon opening their eyes to the world

So the switch is turned to on and the heat begins

The pour is started into each little ridge and the lid is placed and turned

Steam escapes sending the aroma of morning throughout the rooms  

Somewhere the Maxwell House lady is making coffee too forgetting her days in Oz

It is a feast for the senses as the symphony has begun with the music of dawn filling the house with the song of appetite

Meanwhile, the waffles and the cook they waltz, just as morning cuts in to join the dance



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