The Lonely Housewife

Leg of lamb, roasting in her oven pan
Spruced with thyme and rosemary,
Garlic, and sweet potatoes on the side
                       Perfect,

A simmer of sumptuous fat,

Flour to scrape and deglaze

with red wine vinegar

 

 

And wine she glugs

Serves and glugs again
As though on it her life depended,
                   My guests should be here soon

Setting the table,

Four places on best linen fabric,
        What's the hour?

                      It's nearly ready, they're late
                      They'll be just in time at least,

 

she reckons,
                            My masterful kitchen skill

                    beckons even the tardiest mate

Out the oven pan, the leg rest
on hard wood chopping board, chopped,
And served with finest garnish and sauces,
She eats, and wonders why

Author's Note

I was cooking a roast dinner the other day and for some reason imagined a lonely woman, all alone cooking for people that would never arrive. I felt so sorry for her that I decided to write her story.

Reviews

[Michael G. Smith]

Enjoy your stylish take on the underneath ordinary life.

[Subversive Reality]

Thanks for the review(s), I will be sure to return them in kind!

[Michael G. Smith]

My reviews are and unconditional kind, lol.