The last strand enwound within a stripe of vigor,
The petals fall a little saddened in the shady afternoon,
But as if in such a vibrant act of deepest hope,
In love of Life and shunning sin and death rebels,
Such beauty in a smile it'd bloom in its near-bowing stoop.

Crafting now a newly meal,
Borne from within another's mind,
Now sizzling, swaying in my hands,
The prove of taste calls forth more salt,
Halt! before an empty pan is left,
It's to be plated up for four not one,
Hot honey and it's spices rolling off the pork to bedded rice.

Spinning cube upon my screen,
Your radiant geometry,
Writes smiles upon my face serene,
My hair is only half pulled out,
But now I watch you spin between.