An Ode to a Fork

The touch of the embroidered, twisted wood
And the glint of the silver in the light
Did you know with every cut and every slice
What magic you create

The sauces, the soups that you concoct
And the meat that you prepare
Would be spun with magic and a touch of love
To create the masterpieces you make

And oh, to dance and to twirl
Like a ballerina ever so graceful
What does it feel like to dance like that
To spin in the air and to leap

To feel the spaghetti twirl beneath your arms
I wonder what it must feel like
To feel the meatballs cry for joy
As you cradle them in your arms

Did you know you were once lifeless
No soul to colour your life
But suddenly veins pulse and your heart beats
Under the strange whispers of the cold, heartless machines

The scorch marks on your handle
And the burns that you hide
The pains that you have suffered
And the devotion you show in all that you do

My friend, my companion, the joy of my life
You gather families once broken
Reunite long lost friends
With your love spun into the meals you prepare

Did you know that you are the colour of my life?