You are the Pied Piper of Roasts,

as the first delicate hint assails the

nose the kids come running. They

follow the wafting scent from their

darkened caves to the kitchen like blind

mice. Those who crave leanness had

best not follow the tempting tang of

tata’s basking in garlic and hot oil, the

pungent perfume of marinated meat,

the rich aroma of thick dark gravy poured

like a river to pool and glisten on the plate

making of your offerings, islands in a

gleaming sea. Here the dieter lags behind,

crippled by fashion, while the rest consume

your sweet mastery. You play on our tastebuds,

if food be the music of love cook on.

Fairytale from the Oven by Penelope Walker is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at penelopeawalkerwriter@gmail.com