Faint lavender skins burst under polished blade
(heavy-handled, carbon-steel, razor-sharp friend)
releasing potent fragrance into the air,
provoking fraudulent tears.
Oil and butter sizzle in lustrous pan
(heavy-duty, stainless-steel, All-Clad ally)
awaiting crisp secret circles chopped to pieces,
Sing shallots, sing your delightful swan song.
2 comments:
This is good.
Grand, actually.
Oh thank you SD. I am a terrible poet but that doesn't stop my brain from being hijacked by the occasional burst of playful words insisting that I put them in rows and publish them.
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