Made Me Want S'More

Larry and I had s'mores for lunch yesterday.  It'd been years since I'd roasted marshmallows over a fire and spread the charred, gooey blob over a square of chocolate between two graham crackers.  I'm a "serious" marshmallow roaster:  I like them charred, not just golden brown.  As I bit down, the black and white goo oozed out of the sides of the graham cracker sandwich.  I eagerly licked my fingers to capture every tasty, sweet morsel.  We sat with good friends around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows while sharing stories and time under the dappled autumn sunshine.  Leaves fell gently around us, making a crunchy path for our walk in and out of the woods.  The swish of dry leaves underfoot, the smell of campfire in our nostrils, full marshmallow bellies, hugs from friends.  Made me want s'more.