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I don’t have asbestos fingers and my blisters come from the garden
Toiling the soil and growing fine ingredients for such gourmet cuisine
Like ‘throw it all in the one pan dishes’ and crystal ball cooking galore
Never gave you adequate thank you’s and now you are about to retire
Maybe you need to rest on the kitchen shelf overseeing my efforts
To refuse any kind of recipe which some say is a blue print for gruel
Like an oracle you would pretend you don’t know what is in stock
A forgotten hero in my attempts to feed hungry mouths and rebellion

	Mashed gherkins with ice cream
		Liquorice flan flamed with lemons		
			Baked beans with ancient jelly tots
				Mouldy cheese on renegade tart

I asked my kids to brainstorm on contributions for poetic accolade
Although they prefer fast food take aways and microwave delight
But alternative input is as welcome as sea weed and porcupine pie
‘A potholder’ they smirk ‘you don’t even smoke that stuff’ although
‘We don’t know what you’re up to at the allotment in your spare time’
And they caught me preparing food at full moon on a crackling bonfire
Circling the pot on a turbo charged broomstick seven times in a row

French fries a la midnight
	Frog legs made from soy 
		Blanched in octopus ink 
			Lunar asparagus on thistles
				Earthworms on heavenly fire

I have darned you so often that ‘double darn’ does not give justice
Although the holes in the oven gloves were the best part in the fabric
Showing off the labour of genuine love and Agape’s heated caress

Now is the time for you to join your and my friends in the allotment
Hang loose in the apricot arbor next to tea cups and ‘holy’ kettles
On what we call the tea tree in the memorial shadow of passion

The imprints on your surface have faded are sun bleached and faint
Underneath though still resides the embrace of many sizzling years 
But this ode is the least I can do to repay my gratitude and esteem

Too potty overwhelmingly nostalgic kind of can’t let go of the past 
Yesterday’s man on a mission to call on chaotic stellar confusion 
Yet while I admit that star fish conger eel and scyphosoa mousse 
May not have been my best concoction when feeding my children
I never got bored to tease out the ‘best’ in me with my cherished mitts

                                    The only mystery that remains is that 
                        I still do not know which one of you
            Little helpers goes on the right hand and
Which one is left and is therefore correct

09th May 2020
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