Semolina Sunday

And there we were
Standing in the kitchen
Stirring semolina
And me laughing
(As I do)
At my ineptitude
Among the saucepans
Yet introducing you to a dessert
You’d never tasted.
You enquired why my creation
Didn’t look like that on the packet
And what the consistency should be like
In your MasterChef way.
And I continued laughing
A child let loose
On my electric rings
Mixing the milky-white pudding
Adding the richness of strawberry jam
And you telling me it was gorgeous
And it was
Rich and deep and stirring
Like you

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