One’s Favourite

Potato potato so the saying goes
I love how it can be made into different dishes
The moist feel of fried potatoe in my mouth
Creamish slices of heavenly delight
Turned yellow by the bluish flames on which the pan sits.

The crispy sound of potato chips
As I munch away on my couch
Like the sound of boots on dry leaves in harmattan
It is the hand that accompanies every movie
While the salty taste lingers on my tongue.

Potatoe salad is a friendly mix
Vegetables in colours like the rainbows tail
A little cream and salmon somewhere in the middle
Potato potato and a little tomatoe
All cut in rings, ready to be swallowed.

Vera