Most days
I sit in this
Plastic tub
Just waiting
To be touched
To be used
In any way!
Open my big
Mouth and the
Big lug
Grabs me
To swat
A fly!
Wipes the
Carcass off
Put me back
Just in time
For her to pick
Me up an out
For my true
Purpose!
Butter is like
My salty sweet
Lover..
We glide over
Surfaces to make
Way for
Eggs…
Warm and toasty
Crisping goodness…
Flavors
Spices
Delight her
As they do me
Flipping
I am so happy
The slits in my
Side hardly matter!
The head is love
On fire
For our combined
Love of cooking…
And just as
Perfection
Comes…
Eggs sliding
Onto buttered
Toast…
Thrown into
The sink
Cold…
Drowning
In dirty water…
That scums over
Until that
Big lug
Gets off his
Duff
To clean me
Up…
