My backpack drops as I recognize a familiar scent:
my favorite dinner—butter baked chicken.
The smell allows a moment in time where I can taste it.

At the table, plates scatter resembling fall leaves.
A pile of chicken on a plate sits in the center of the table.
The crunch of the breading is music to my ears.

I watch the plate of chicken revolve around the table,
like a barrel of a six shot,
until it’s my turn for the golden glory.
  
With chicken on my plate, my thoughts wander.
Where is my Pepsi?
The sweet bubbly liquid of love.

Flavors of chicken and Pepsi swirl,
together in an odd harmony.
My favorite harmony.

I love my favorite foods,
chicken to pepsi,
I'll always have mom to make me my soul-soothing food.