GASTRONOMY.

Dinner

With my infant

Is always a spectral event,

In every sense of the word,

And nothing can capture the picture

That’s left when

Its vividness has melted away;  

For no sooner has each colourful feast begun

Than it’s finished,

And is diminished by the light that shines

Through its place upon the plate,

As if its state had shifted

Instead of being lifted

And luged down his tubes,

And as that particular day’s palette is swallowed

It follows that the next’s menu

Must be etched

And fetched from such shops

As stock

The best recipe’s elements,

As well as any sundry items,

Such as fruit and its fancies

That go hand in hand with the best dressed meals,

And seal their place

In any week’s

Culinary schedule

That few could

Refuse.