The Dish

I am the dish
Who married the spoon
Right after the cat
Fiddled.

It was a whim
To run off that way
With someone I knew
Briefly.

Love at first sight
Is ever a risk
But can be sustained
Maybe.

He wanted stew
While I wished for soup
And mealtime was tense
Always.

I lit a lamp
And he laid a cloth
We copied the cat
And fiddled.

@Harvester 15 April 2013