Bolognese


The aroma of the butter slowly melting
Fills the kitchen with the warmth and comfort
Of your mother’s embrace and kisses.

The sound of the sizzling as the fresh garlic
Deftly slides across the surface of the pan
Is as enticing as a lover’s whisper.

The pink meat turns golden brown
As it playfully dances in its own juices
Like the sun setting over the peaceful sea.

Fresh tomotoes frolicking with the verdant herbs
Create a bed of scarlet flowers blooming
In the springtime across the evergreen pastures.

The rolling strips of wheat and flour
Like angel’s hair flowing in the heavens
Caressing the wonderful bounty of this earth.

A myriad of sensations flooding every sensibility
A journey of a thousand leagues begins
With a solitary flourish of the silverware.
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