Happy Poetry Friday!
We managed this past weekend to gather with some family and have our traditional dinner of Swedish meatballs and noodles. My husband is the chief cook. The process is long and somewhat tedious, and since we expected 12 hungry folks, several batches of meatball mix were made the day before. Hours of preparation produced six pounds of meatball mix. Whoa!
The outcome was sensational. The first mouthful produced a sustained sigh of satisfaction. Fantastic!
Of course, the meatballs need a poem, but I haven't had time to do them justice. Still, I had written a little poem about my husband... the grandpa in this poem... and how our evenings often unfold. So, with that introduction, I hope you will like it.