Straight from kitchen

Of all those segments of our living

That we cling to morn till evening

Kitchen seems to be the only place sane

There you work and grind and I get to your plane

You put cardamom seeds and chilli flakes

I put cream and pineapple in milkshake

You make pastes of tamarind and ginger

I find how on your apron yellowish tinge lingers

And then when you shout seeing vegs useless

Rotten tomatoes you throw at me with rage,

I look at your cups held in two hands

They remind me of our honey filled lands

Where after our consummation we drank wine

You keep on grinding grains of rice fine,

Together we make our kitchen happy and wise

Together there we fall into silence and then rise

To meet our differences, our forlorn dreams

Kitchen noises and smells oft to our bedroom bring

Hunger and taste of plays that we gotten in our blood

Desserts what we  make dropping lemon juice in curd

Adding a bit of salt and sugar into it

Food what we make to live, to love and to eat.