It smells good no matter what's in the pot.
Its better a couple days later.
Its the symbol for a hand out or a help up.
It warms your body when its cold.
It fortifys the soul in the dead of Winter.
Every race, creed, nationality, color or people
Have their soups and they all are good
To cure what ails you when times are bad,
The weather is cool, or when your backbone
And your belly do the hunger rub.
About Me
- TBAYNHAMIII
- I was born in Kentucky, though my parents had been living in Knoxville before my birth. My mother's mother lived across the street from the hospital in Hopkinsville, Kentucky, which was convenient. I moved around quite a bit when I was young, but ended up in Georgia. I like to read and write and love food and drink way too much. I have a funny wife and daughter who has finished her batchelor's degree and is living with her grandmother in North Atlanta and studying advertising. I sometimes wonder what life would have been like if I had not gone to law school. Regrets come and go with the seasons.
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