Your Food

Your food is devine, and your words are bland.

Filling my stomach starves my mind.

I could spend hours upon hours watching, learning, emulating your cuisine. Yet when you open your mouth to speak, I want to run and hide.

Where is the delicate touch you employ so well when applying a ginger foam atop a lattice of caramel? When will read your account of finding the perfect spring lobster and liberating it from it's rigid shell, and actually smell the sea scent on the creature?

I will write for you, if you will cook for me.