Sliced vegetables and meat seasoned to perfection,
The hot pan well greased with butter sizzled in yearning,
And the pan won as slowly the vegetables cooked,
Then the tendered meat joined the dance with a pinch of salt.
Bread baked to crisp waited, rice cooked to softness cooled,
Oh’, stew well prepared, bread and rice added taste,
The cooled lemonade and mint calmed the food inside.
All gave a feeling of a trek in a mountain valley in spring.
All through the meal, the birds at the feeder I watched,
Only companions who will all fly away at the sight of me,
The taste of the meal never lessened at the lonely thoughts,
The taste twisted in my mouth, maybe a prayer from a bird.
When washing the dishes a thought through my mind came,
What if she smiled at the taste of all the food I made?
All the prayer-filled taste of the meal I made vanished,
As I know I made a meal in a house, not a homely meal.
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