Fries ode

Tent and steaming,
Golden like the sun,
Fries condense joy of life and child-like behaviours.
Fingers are sticky,
oily stains on my dress,
And a bunch of fries
Like wedding bouquet
in my hands.

Spaghetti drug

Spaghetti at the end of the adventure
In the evening of a Friday
With a bitter taste.
Sneaky but friendly
The pasta wraps me and my doubts
While the future holds a secret.

Joy Friday

Wine is in my hands
On a Friday with rain
And my heart jumps of joy.
Love and company,
Foods and future,
Plans and relaxation,
Joy is when the opposites meet.

Carrot dance

Carrots dance on the window sill
Watching my spaghetti getting dressed
For the party.
I touch and feel
The richness and roughness of the pasta
That brings sun into my home.

Food hunt

I am starving today
For those warm afternoons running in the fields
And those silent evenings reflecting on a book.
Food for the avid mind
And food for the temperamental belly
Do not overlap
And are complementary.

In Line with friends

I fit my point like I fit my best friends
Connected by a line
Made of interests and good food.
One after the other
They enrich and trace the days
Otherwise white and smooth
Like a sheet of paper.

Foody storm

Apparent control
On the surface of a storming ocean
Is the shakiest way of transport
Through the day.
Like a cat on a sailing boat
I always my eyes are high
To the faraway land
And my heart feels at home
Only when a fish lies in front of me.
Green Food as a panacea to the waves
And the wind
That poke me on the journey.