For my birthday
You lovingly gave me
A beautiful tome on cordon bleu food preparation.
Each page housing full colour pictures
Of mouth-watering, scintillating delights,
Tickling the imagination,
Conjuring up heavenly scents,
Transporting the reader into the kitchen.

Soufflé au fromage, as light as a butterfly floating on a summer breeze.

Soupe à L’oignon, the queen of soups, which sets all the world right again.

Pot-au-feu, heartwarming and comforting, gladdens the soul and soothes the beast.

Sole Meunière, crispy, buttery and lemony,
each morsel producing simple joy.

I hate cooking.

 

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NaPoWriMo — Day Eleven: Write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does. An abstract, philosophical kind of statement closing out a poem that is otherwise intensely focused on physical, sensory details. 

I started this on the eleventh, but it was a “terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day” as I was ill most of my waking hours, so I finished this up on the twelfth, feeling much more like myself.  🙂

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