Something of You

In the kitchen,
Surrounded with the spice and flavour of cooking,
I rattle my pots,
Beat my eggs,
And pummel my dough.
The kids run all about,
Slamming the doors,
Shouting down the street,
And racing up the stairs,
Until I can never be sure which ones are in,
And which are out.

But when you creep in,
Trying to surprise me for the thousandth time,
You know you will fail,
Because I know when you are nearby.
Back from your game,
Showered and clean,
There is still something of you in the air,
And I do not need to look around,
To know that you are there.

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