Yes, back then, I lost the ingredients to be happy.

Instead, what I found, for me, wasn’t the best recipe,

but now, I do realize, back then, you were happy.

Yet, back when you trusted in my new concoction–

believe me, I was not thrilled using this recipe.

I only wish, now, we could have been more happy.

We both know how others fared back in the beginning,

still, I succeeded for years using this tried-and-true concoction.

However, with a new chef, stepping away was the only recipe,

and, with that decision, I was finally happy.

You saw the impact it had had on my life,

but that chef didn’t trust me–you said so from the beginning.

It was her mistake not to use all the ingredients–what a concoction!

Well, she’s staring at a disaster due to changing the recipe.

Now, I shouldn’t be so happy.

You think, though, all along I planned this.

But, I swear, I never sought to aspire from that life.

I proved this by keeping my mouth shut, even in the beginning,

Even so, I think you agree, given her strange-tasting concoction–

my well-worn instructions made for the best recipe.

You said it: now, I must be really happy.

Still, that woman’s insistence fractured my vision.

I know you’re worried how I’ll survive this–

how we’ll satisfy our appetites with only garnishes from your life.

And, yes, Sweet Love, this could be just the beginning–

we could starve with another bad-tasting concoction.

Yet, I will not beg for scraps no matter the recipe.

If only, now, I can be happy.

Well, we must decide what to make with each other.

We can’t let my past culinary delights define our vision.

And, yes, I can use different ingredients similar to this–

but, finally, I find I am exactly where I want to be–in a life-

changing conception that starts, again, at the beginning.

After years of being a part of a different concoction,

I have an opportunity to try a different recipe.

If only, now, you can be happy.

I never thought changing directions so difficult–

that you would lose your desire to try others.

With aromatic seasonings to revitalize my vision,

pungent spices mixing in oils to believe in this,

attempting other artistic creations could be a thrilling life

and the varied flavors so satisfying–even from the beginning,

but, ah, Sweet Love, you must believe in my concoction–

the oven burns bright in light of a new recipe.

If only, now, we can learn to be happy.

****

Categories: Poetry, Selection: 2018