I know there is a ghost
that comes into my kitchin
I've heard the crunch of toast
and kettle on off switchin

My pantry's open wide
but nothin I see missin
Meanwhile my cat is petrified
at the fridge door hissin

But I know this ghost well
and why he has been lookin
It's time to feed heaven and hell
with my delish cookin

It's the memories we create
that's our biggest wealth
in the worst times and the great
when in sickness or in health

It's not the money in your account
or the value of your jewels
There is no amount
and the numbers are for fools

It's not about that dumb degree
or awards that you achieved
The best times in life aren't free
but how you richly through them lived

Twenty twenty will be known
as a year of the virus and vaccines
and also one where I have grown
that I can't fit in my jeans

No man is an island
but some are like continents
with a massive highland
and no top button on their pants

He had a calming presence
as others all cried foul
and ran around like pheasants
while he sat like an owl

composed, cool and collected
as others looked to blame
he slowly dots connected
then carefully took aim

but he didn't swoop
and no one was empowered
when all he did was his pants ****
then ran off like a coward

The secret to a life of bliss
is sweet potato chips
I thought it might be in your kiss
but they weren't on your lips

and the more we kissed and kissed
my hunger amplified
and more and more their taste i missed
and was unsatisfied

so in my hand I grabbed a few
then made you on them crunch
and in your kiss I suddenly knew
the secret to eat lunch