I FELL HARD

I fell hard for the village cook,

Perhaps it was her recipe,

Or her bosom,,her full laucherie,

Perhaps she added a pinch of vinegar,

Perhaps her dimples being luscious,

My blood ran after every meal.

I fell hard for the village cook,

always alluring and full of laughter,

Always with a spoon,a large soup spoon,

She playfully tempts with her cutlery,

Playfully she winks at me,

My blood runs after every meal.

I fell hard for the village cook,

Always helping her out with dishes,

Always talking to her about wishes,

She loves my wits,

She adores my treats,

Perhaps meant,perhaps not,

My blood runs after every meal