A Kitchen Poem

A room is here, a room is there

but a kitchen is always present.

In every house she makes her presence,

never failing, always accounted for.

But you cannot always say the same for her accessories.

They are wild, they sometimes need tamed.

Forks lay next to knives, they shiver at the proximity.

Knives lay next to spoons, they’re subtle in their piercing nature.

A stove accompanies its pans,

at least they are close companions.

Most utensils play tricks on you, they dull and they break.

When you need them the most, they laugh and lose themselves in crevices

or under sinks where they know no one will ever look.

All for them, none for you.

But alas, you can always rely on the kitchen to herd them back in.

She opens her drawers and calls them home.

The cups, they bounce with childish joy as they scurry

to their assigned placeholders.

The plates - they roll in their jovial journey,

back to their shelves they go.

The kitchen scolds the knives for scaring

the forks and the spoons.

“They are your brothers and sisters!”

she exclaims in frustration.

No matter the exhaustion, no matter the despair.

You can always count on the kitchen; she’ll always be there.