We show up to our friends house to feast.
We know we are in for a blazing treat.
We spy our chef commanding the kitchen stage by stomping his feet.
We run to the table and scramble to our seats.
We sing "Grace"! in unison to give thanks for this amazing retreat.
We are delighted by the simplest dishes, our taste buds accede.
We devour everything, pouring and splashing, leaving nothing neat.
We stay amused by the company we keep.
We talk of fun times and try to recall screaming, "how did we meet"?
We scavenge and scoop and dip and dig as our spoons meet.
We cheer and clank and chatter on about what is still to achieve.
We cherish the sounds that abound as roosters and mules greet.
We never resolve to stay polite, and instead find each our own soap box speech.
We wander away upstairs in search of some quiet relief.
We spy the powder room mirror to see what might remain in our teeth.
We realize the bed is calling us over to carry us to sleep.
We cheek kiss and bear hug, and grab our keys.
We head out the gate, so thankful we found all that we came to seek.
Metal Art Work: Mark Silka
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