I open my kitchen window

As the carrot and beet soup simmers on the stove

In the darkness of sky,

I lay on you my eyes.

It has been longer than I could imagine

You appear a tad brighter I have ever seen

No, your brightness remains the same

Only my eyes are to be blamed.

And then my mind does a pirouette

With a bizarre idea instead.

My eyes twinkle at the sight of soup,

Not the taste but its colour I choose.

What if I bring some mischief to the fore?

Splash the carroty beet’s colour to your core.

My mind then jumps to the wagon of spinachy green

Your smirk tells me, “Only in your dreams!”

Well, I like you with your silvery white,

Always adds to my dreamy delight.

Here, the soup seems ready to be served,

I close the window and leave you undisturbed.