Oatmeal

A single grain of sand to that of many believers is there. Dry in born splendor and light in weight while young. Further grown into perfect air pockets to deliver a low lullaby. Silver in the exchange of sugars, but a soft reassurance in the presence of durable textures. It mingles amongst the sweeter ones. It asks to stay and sticks like nectar on the best of spring days. In the saddest of senses, it is the best of friends.