The dough is dry, I mositen it,
Playing it by my aged hands;
Love is kneading, surrendering
To the sticky dewy mass of ham.
The table is set, the lights are dim,
It pours sheets of water as I perfect
The bread noiselessly to hear
Little feet pitter patter.
The batter is nice, it tastes sweet,
It's principal ingredient being love,
The alarm goes off, I singe my fingers
To offer you this delicious platter.
Comments
Post a Comment