The tips of my fingers smell like onions
and the ends of my hair,
garlic as I pour myself into this tomato sauce
that’s simmering on the stove
Stirring in the necessary
waiting for the wafts to swirl
herbs meld thick in a brew of
anticipation that means more than just a taste
Tomato sauce love in the fall
Put it all
Put all the ingredients together to create something
that means something more than what you feel
in the fall
This is the first poem I’ve written in a while. It feel a little ladies-home-journal-ish. Add rolls and serve.
LikeLike
If this is what they have in ladies home journal then sign me up for a subscription.
LikeLike
Your subscription is in the mail….
LikeLike