The Kitchen

The kitchen is my place.
A serene locale for me to stay,
I serenade with the perfumes it wears
Together we dip the onions to feed the nose.

The kitchen is a darling in bed,
It caresses my tummy whenever I need.
Cuddling through the gullet we pass,
And down the stomach we make our love.

The kitchen is my place.
Be it lunch, supper or break.
I depend on it like a parasite,
Sucking it's gallery in stock.

The kitchen is a real friend indeed.
It wipes away the tears when you cry.
And when the hunger beatings are severe,
It is always ready to give me a massage.
Hiire Ivan is a Ugandan Writer, Poet and Blogger.

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