Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Our greetings sometimes equate
To the repetitive click-click-click
Of a gas range finding its flame.
But it takes no time until our pot
Comes to a rolling boil
---Bubbling and frothing,
And sometimes coming to the lips
Before overflowing into a steamy mess.

But in brewing our concoction
The recipe is seldom ruined
And hardly requires to start anew
With a fresh approach.
It is when the product tastes sweet,
Comforting and starchy with a flavor
Our tongues can't quite identify,
That we're left with  bowls empty
Wanting more and never sated.

It is in this fervorous hunger
That we fill each other's dish
To see each other smile
For such a small gesture.
We do this again-and-again,
Until the unthinkable has been thought:
We're finally full for the evening.
So what to do with our leftovers?
Save it on a simmer, for some breakfast
or perhaps, a midnight snack.

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