How She loves to Cook

The sun sets in the east

and

offers skies,

delicate and warm over

Kirtlington, Oxfordshire

The smell of blueberry pie,

the smell of sweet chocolate cake

flicks pass my nose

as I pass

Mrs Johnsons cottage kitchen,

the agar’s working overtime again

She calls from her window, the latch rusty and broken

“Come in and eat”

I stay for a while

I eat

Dear Mrs Johnson

How she loves to cook