In the heart's five-star restaurant, I loved to
watch you cook, whipping up meals fit
for a king. Poised at the stove, meticulous, you,
danced pans in your hands. It was an exquisite
ballet-- a study in exactitude and grace.
The food obeyed you and found a shape
that pleased an artist's eye. And at such a pace
I could only marvel, could only gape.
What discipline, I saw, what practiced intent.
You were a genie, the stomach's favorite.
The very spices clapped their astonishment!
And my mouth waters just to think of it.
The dishes were served. Delightful the smell.
And not even that other Jamshyd ate so well.