deepundergroundpoetry.com
Time for Dinner M'Lady
Patiently waiting
for my signature chicken with rice
to perfectly cook
Hallelujah! The oven timer sounds
I swoon at its dulcet ringing
for its tune conjures a favorite,
romantic torch song
sung, for decades,
by countless baritone crooners
It’s subject being much more famous
and centuries older
that of the captivating beauty
of the Italian noblewoman with the coy,
mysteriously undecipherable smile
her staring eyes alternately whispering
“thou art mine,” or “to you, I’m indifferent,”
or, heaven forbid, “I thee despise”
for my signature chicken with rice
to perfectly cook
Hallelujah! The oven timer sounds
I swoon at its dulcet ringing
for its tune conjures a favorite,
romantic torch song
sung, for decades,
by countless baritone crooners
It’s subject being much more famous
and centuries older
that of the captivating beauty
of the Italian noblewoman with the coy,
mysteriously undecipherable smile
her staring eyes alternately whispering
“thou art mine,” or “to you, I’m indifferent,”
or, heaven forbid, “I thee despise”
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