My wife went out to our yard and
Allowed the children to play
While she plucked up from our garden
Ingredients for the day

Of cooking she had planned
With fresh tomatoes, peppers and spices.
Over a hot stove she would stand
Creating some tasty new vices

For me and our dinner guests to try.
These specially made combinations
Were very pleasing to the eye
When presented as calm sensations

But before then, it’s intense
With the chopping and sauce splatters
The mess becomes immense
Although it’s taste that truly matters.

I start to do some reasoning,
And decide to boil water.
While she’s overworked with seasoning
I’ll make the kitchen hotter.

I’m stirring but my boiled over pasta mocks
The way I try to help with cooking dinner
I followed the instructions on the box
But perhaps it’s too advanced for this beginner.

Soon everything’s laid out and ready.
The conversation starts with “who’s the cook?”
My answer’s simply “I made the spaghetti.”
Then my wife gives me that look.