Ode to Spaghetti O's

my bowl seems so empty
waiting for sustenance
an old fashioned can opener
hand cranked and stubborn
removes a somewhat reluctant lid
revealing the contents within
glistening circular pasta
swimming in a orangish red
faux tomato sauce
a few shakes of the can
followed by a slurping sound
and I am rewarded with
a virtual waterfall of o's
cascading into my saucepan
a pinch or two of garlic salt
and than the piece de resistance
one frankfurter thinly sliced
I stir frequently over an open flame
awaiting the appearance of tiny bubbles
announcing the completion
of the heating process
a handful of fresh parmesan
and I am ready for a quick walk
down memory lane
sleepovers with rick
and our favorite meal
spaghetti o’s and franks
shared over the latest
hardy boy mystery

with one last spoonful
I leave my younger self behind
with a pleasant sigh
I return to my daily routine