Honey Bun

My husby and I went to dinner today.It’s something we both like to do.(Let’s face it, I love it when someone else cooks,Then tidies and does dishes, too.)
Talk drifted through topics both varied and wide,Like politics, family and pain,(With short bouts of silence to fork in some food,)Then starting the talk once again.
We studied our fellow restaurant customers,And yes. All our comments were nice.(I know it was something you wondered about,We were tempted at least once or twice.)
Then the dialogue turned, as it oftentimes does,To topics light-hearted, amusing,(I admit I prefer it when talk turns that wayI find it to be less confusing.)
We were talking of heroes and who we thought great,Of qualities never found lacking,And whom should be honored. Whom we should retain,And which should just be sent packing.
My Husby’s my hero, I’ll freely admit.Though, compared to the others, he’s…round.His kindness and his generosity shine,And with many good things, he abounds.
But Husby decided as the talking went on,My Stud Muffin he just couldn’t be.Instead he’d consider himself something more,He’d be my Stud Bun now. To me.
So know as your reading this, Husby and me,Are having some wonderful fun,Exploring and wandering throughout the world,Just me and my honey(stud)bun.
Monday needed help.So Delores, Jenny and I decided that a little poetry would liven things up a bit.This is my attempt. Hurry over to see what they’ve done!