211016 Sentinel, Dear Joyce

Joyce My Love

Joyce if you are looking down on me today, I know you are shaking your head over my pathetic attempt at making pasta and marinara sauce. I am no chef as you well knew. I had never attempted this before today. I had to look on the internet to figure out how to make a simple dish that you always made with style and flair. I did make something resembling what I tried to make, but my result fell far short of what you did so often. It was edible and I have some left over for later. I didn't make enough sauce and it thurned out very thin. I will attempt to remedy that tomorrow. You spoiled me through the years with your culinary prowess, so nothing I can make will match what you made every day for me.

Thank you Lord, for eyes to see,
How lovely Joyce was to me.
Thank you, for my ear,
So I could hear her call so clear.
Thank you, for my nose,
So I could smell her perfume on my clothes.
Thank you, for a sense of taste,
So her sweet lips never went to waste.
Thank you, for my sense of touch,
For I loved to hold her, oh so much.