"The Blue Book of Cookery", was propped by two rolls of duck tape.
The library number viable on its binding.
A Fed-x box contained the "Cava" wine,
On the unfinished counter top.
Harold broad shoulders loomed over the cook book.
His sun wrinkled eyes Intensly reread the recipe.
The tip of a knife he used to keep his place.
Darting his glance at the stove,
Mouther henning boiling pots.
Harold was preparing a gift for Alice,
And he wanted it to be perfect.
For she was a woman of class, and distinction.
She would know quality on sight.
The Dinning room was just remolded,
The only room done in the house.
Harold smiled thinking of the way it looked,
The Cherry wood table, that was correctly set,
White lace table cloth, brass napkin holders,
Antec candle holders, (on lone from his mom),
Fine china, and polished silver ware,
Aranged by "Fine Dinning" instruction.
Another library book Harold needed.
This would be Harlods first diner companion,
Since he bought the old colonial mansion.
A house deep with the history of the small Main town.
Who's once occupants were accustom to Harolds try at gourmet,
This endeavor he hoped would lighten Alice's spirt.
Reflecting on the first time he saw her.
It seemed instantly she was before him,
His normal fears quelled by the sight of her,
When she moved towards him, he understood elegant.
Speaking her name, it sounded like a whisper to him,
The stillness in her eyes, soft pale glowing skin,
A smile that warmed his always awkward soul.