|
| |
People Beg Me to Not Cook
When I want to cook others beg me to stop.
I once baked a cake that when rolled could hop.
We made it into balls and watched it go down the walk.
Some of it was whisked away by a determined chicken hawk.
Hope that bird does not die, my sister said.
She loves to cook, can make pies, puddings and bread.
If I try to make a hamburger, it scorches black in the pan.
I am the worst cook in Kansas, you can ask my man.
Out of desperation he learned to cook.
He is a really great chef, can maneuver the nook.
Which is to say the kitchen which I begged the builder to leave out.
That put his knickers in a knot, the man swore and gave a shout.
She does not cook, she is really bad at it, my husband explained.
I was going to try cookies yesterday, but everyone complained.
They have cleaned up my messes, and none wanted to do it again.
Luckily I live close to my baking, cooking sister; she is my twin.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
|
|