There is no supper,
It isn’t cooked,
Wiling its time
Within recipes nook,
Uncooked.
There is no supper
Without love’s crook,
Reciped into wiles
Of how, when and why.
Perma-cooked.
There is no supper,
Duty-dued,
Unwilled by actions
And not loving words,
There is no supper.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 5/25/08
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.