Toast.

I have a pen pal. A dear friend who sends me tidbits to inspire and encourage. Yesterday she sent me this poem. 

Do you love toast as much as I do?*

ODE TO TOAST

"When you were alive twas your favorite food..."

Lucky, lucky tongue, rejoice in toast's crisper,

toughened up crumb. The once limp slice stands up

to honey, mustard, blackberry jam, or pastrami piled

high, its folds like those of a Roman's toga. Amber

grain endured a second trial by fire. Toast is bread

twice baked, crustily double blessed, like the warrior

who twice escaped death at his enemies' hands

and survived into peace-time, not just unharmed

buy husky, hardy and tanned by the sun, his grateful

faith intact. A blacksmith by trade he takes grave joy

in forging a plowshare from his sword. Toast's toothsome

crunch echoes the sandpaper scrape

of a kiss from he of the unshaven cheek,

a kiss that turns my knees to melted butter.

-Amy Gerstler

from"Ghost Girl"

* Probably not.
Toast mosaic