she clarifies bacon grease to make the popcorn

once it is in the bowl, adds seasoning with butter

a tad of garlic, sea salt, sugar

the layers of flavor are heaven in each morsel

this means a romantic movie tonight

probably one we have seen quite often
i never tire of this
holding her hand as she tears
with each tear, i fall in love again
and i am the first to admit
as Captain Gregg takes Mrs. Muir hand, i tear

she finds ways to make vegetables tempting

baked, fried, steamed, an array of seasoning

appetizers of cubed cheese, celery, small sausages

while the cheese brings in a subtle creamy softness

the celery mixes in fiber and  mild juices

then assaulted by the piquant sausage upon my pallet
masticating this admixture i become a bovine
ruminating before i must surrender to the stomach
that precious smile you wear watching that heaven
as a soft moan of pleasure escapes me

they sit upon a thin elongated rectangular plate

which rests between two slim vases

one has a red rose, the other is pink

she never varies in that arrangement

red is her undying love for me
pink is her gratitude to God for our love

you are more than just a loving chef

you are the romantic that inspires me
you are the poet in the kitchen
whose depth lives within so many levels
i never tire of gazing upon you
you are the third rose at dinner
my Blue rose, the unobtainable is obtained
each bite i take is another sonnet
you have carefully crafted
in that enchanting cauldron
those soft moans escaping onto your smile
has become my book of best-loved poems

1/16/19