The cold of winters day,
when snow coatings stay,
Being inside is a desire,
where cosy warmth we admire.

A wood fired stove in the room,
guarantuees a cosy afternoon.
Coming from the cold outside,
we long for a warm shelter to hide.

To share a tea together,
escape the winter weather.
To warm us up,
one needs more than a tea cup.

A soup in any variation,
from short to long preparation.
Is the perfect meal for the season,
there is soup for any mean and reason.

Beef bouillon as traditional meal,
with variations of garnish to deal.
There is more than noodles out there,
some are difficult to prepare,

but everyone is worth trying,
me being a soup addict, no denying.
Vegitarian variations, clear and easy,
to french onion soup tasty and cheesy.

And the Asian kitchen variations,
are full of tasty types and realizations.
Viatnamese Pho spicy and hot,
Japanese Ramen, and Korian hot pot,

Soup feeds body and soul,
it warms us and makes us whole.
It garnishes our living space in smell,
cooking soup anyone can tell.

A unique cosy feeling it creates,
the spirits of safety it awakes.
Soup is perfect to share,
it is a concentrate of love and care.

The original poem „soup“ somehow disappeared and ended up being lost. So I tired a second attempt. As always it is different, but still it is a poem about soup.