Another off the ever-growing bleaching bone pile:
A Dinner Dance
Bedazzled by her dance across the floor,
I sense the rhythmic beating of her heart.
With restless energy, she makes a start,
glides smoothly to the pantry to explore.
A metal whisk in hand, she soon will pour
eight eggs with parmesan, the crucial part.
She tempts me with her culinary art,
sashaying to the oven’s open door,
hips shifting side to side, a lovely sway.
She slides in the frittata (sausage, eggs,
potatoes, peppers, onions), and I pray
that for dessert we too will cook, our legs
then dipping deep to stimulate romancing
with sweetly spicy after-dinner dancing.
__________________
Ralph
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