Agnes Cook
By mark_yelland-brown
- 597 reads
Agnes Cook drops stock cubes
Into boiling water.
She stirs and stirs in,
The gravy granules.
Meanwhile,
A curled-up cat,
Eyes half-closed with purring,
Unseeing,
Feels the tap of the metal spoon against the side of the metal saucepan.
Agnes Cook plays Solitaire,
To the sound of Claire de Lune;
Barenboim on the third program.
On a chintzy side table, in a small clear bowl,
One faded gold fish,
Turns and turns,
Not hearing the soft notes fall.
Eliot was dreaming coffee spoons and Michelangelo juxtaposed,
When Agnes Cook had yet to lose her soul.
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Comments
This is so relaxing to read,
This is so relaxing to read, I felt my blood pressure falling. It's a little piece of perfection. Agnes Cook's life is alright and she leaves space for Eliot's imagination.
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