The Sandwich. (Dedicated to Tim Carman.)

 

 

A noble BLT in daylight's glimmer,
Bacon crisp, lettuce fresh, and tomatoes prime,
Layered in harmony, each ingredient a star shimmer,
In its simplicity, a testament to time.

The fried baloney, humble, yet so rich,
In its ordinary guise, an unsung song,
The sizzle and the scent, a satisfying itch,
In each bite, a place where hearts belong.

Oh, the grilled cheese, a canvas plain,
Bread and cheddar merging in delight,
Golden crust, inside a molten vein,
A comfort clasped in hands so tight.

The turkey club, a tower tall,
A hearty feast, in three-layered might,
Bacon, lettuce, turkey, echo the call,
Of hunger quenched, in day or night.

The hot meatball, a tale of bold,
Marinara, mozzarella, a spicy dance,
Each morsel savored, each story told,
In every bite, an Italian romance.

For in each sandwich, there lies a glory,
Of simplicity and skill, of tale and truth,
An ode to the humble, an epic story,
A timeless testament to the wonder of our youth.