Come on in my kitchen
Dontcha stand outside
Come on in my kitchen
Good things inside
My joy and pride
C'mon.
Some dishes are meant to simmer slowly
Others must be quickly seared
As if the skillet's touch
Were almost too much
Look here...
You are so sweet
Kiss me
Kiss me
Feelin it from my eyelashes
Down to my feet.
The afternoon has gone late and hot
Go on, slip out my back door
See you at the sunrise
Baby, never mind
The sugar on the counter top
The flour on the floor.
__________
For Bice, as always. No crappy plastic measuring cups were used in the creation of this poem.
I like the message here! Loved the second stanza! Keep writing!!!
ReplyDeleteThank the goddess - plastic is bad. Sweet dreams are good!
ReplyDeleteI love this poem and its Southern feel - and - OK don't hate me for having a dirty mind - at first glance I thought this said "Come in my Kitchen." LOL!
ReplyDeleteRiot Kitty is too funny :)
ReplyDeleteRiot Kitty: You are so funny! Oh, and I like the poem.
ReplyDeleteRK, you perv! I thought the same thing. lol
ReplyDeletePS - This poem makes me wanna fan myself. ;)
ReplyDeleteaaaah, instincts take me......
ReplyDeleteNothing plastic here .. its all real
ReplyDeleteI need to cook up a little something myself.
ReplyDeleteI immediately thought of the old blues song. One of my favorites.
ReplyDelete