On a cold, chill winter's day your very soul calls out for hot, steaming, aromatic - soup/stew -- thick with THAT special 'goodness' of being from home-made efforts.
A gleaming 'stockpot' placed above the "stove burner". The feel of the ticks as the selector turns. And THEN...
As the flames glisten, they dance and splay 'cross the bottom and rise...
the feel - the FEEL of the HEAT expanding and expanding...
the shimmering as the heated air flows the outside - rises and rises to join that bit of steam escaping from the glass lid shivering atop the bubbling and bubbling until roiling above an expanding outward and outward cloud thick and fragrant as...
- a Viscous Liquid - simmers within the cauldron. Miasmic in its draw...
"With-In-Finite..."
...A mere sprinkling of "forever",
stir and stir some more -
add a hint ...JUST a hint, mind you, to taste
- a hint of "Nevermore"...
Simmer gently while covered -
long and slow
then increase the heat to a roiling boil
- you'll know the when
- you always do -
somehow.
Stir,
STIR with abandon!
Now, NOW! add a sprig of "tomorrow"
while you kiss the fingertips of yesterday
- remember being ...again.
The aroma is to die for...
the taste... the taste
- IS all you "lived" for...
...and the table
is still set
though the candles
are pooled stubs...
and the silence
- the silence
...the silence
spills, fills and then overflows
all the world.
Chris