Strange to have a chore so ordinary and mundane,
etched in the mind and is likely to remain,
the fondest memories we had and will continue to bring
moments of joy and bouts of suffering.
The happier times, when we would unwind,
by you cooking and I trying to point out the faults I could find.
But it was really you who knew the things I perhaps couldn’t do,
So the thickly chopped tomatoes and onions were passed through.
We would roam, chat, sing and I would continue talking,
of things that would amuse you or could seize you laughing.
We would stir the dish every now and then and in between,
clean up the mess, hoping it would turn out to be a cuisine.
Remember the time when we cooked beans and rice?
I said I wanted something more and you cooked some fries.
At times, we would head to your room and briefly kiss,
A faint smile on your face, the moments I am left to reminisce.
But in those moments I did feel truly loved,
No matter it ended quick and abrupt.
I am slowly learning to live this way,
of you being gone and the end of days.