Oh garlic oh onion how does it eel to be a lily?
My fingers smell of garlic and onions. I rub them gently under my nose and think of the skin that surrounds these vegetables, and remember the joys of cutting each, chopping finely tonight, not those large slices that I am used to for stir-frys and roasting. And how heavy they made my tear-ducts deep into the night, and the state of joy they presented to my body upon eating them in saffron broth this evening.
Oh to be an onion, to bloom, to be a child of the earth, to sit on shevles of peoples houses, to be slices, skinned, diced, fried, to be sweetened, to be featured for my bite.
I will bloom, I will, again, I will.
My days are silly, it is warm outside and the walls in my room are quite white.
BBB
Oh to be an onion, to bloom, to be a child of the earth, to sit on shevles of peoples houses, to be slices, skinned, diced, fried, to be sweetened, to be featured for my bite.
I will bloom, I will, again, I will.
My days are silly, it is warm outside and the walls in my room are quite white.
BBB