I was going to change the title to French or Spanish but it seemed WAY too pretentious so I dropped it. I wrote this poem three weeks ago on March 19th. Lately, I’ve been in the “Anything romantic in your head, write it down, and then make it into a poem.”
We are our own chefs,
Cooking up mischief and magic,
Drowning out the outside,
To our extraordinary recipe.
It has always been simple with us,
Having something attempted to be redone,
But imitators have failed,
Only we can get it quite right.
We wield our instruments with caution,
Handled as gingerly as our young hearts,
How our distinct flavors mixed so well,
Lies in the secrets of in the cayenne specks.
With a dash of your hilarity,
And sprinkles of my wit,
A smidgen of being wild and free,
A splash of caring and understanding,
A mixture of personality,
And even our worst days,
Equate to this,
A joyous dish,
Over-flowing with affection.
An everlasting meal of love.
I think I was slightly hungry when I wrote this…?
Float In The Cyber Space!