This evening, following an overcast, drizzly day, I had to turn the furnace on to warm up the house a bit. The inside temperature is at about 67 degrees, which is perfect for drinking a cup of hot chocolate before I go to bed. Hot chocolate and toast have been a long-time comfort food for me. There is something soothing about butter melting into the toast, and alternating sips of the hot chocolate with bits of buttery bread. As I was enjoying the warmth the cup brought to my chilled fingers, I was reminded that I once wrote a poem about hot chocolate, so I searched through my files, running into other poems that I may one day post, to find it and share the essence of the experience with you.
A wisp of white
Velvety, dark, decadent,