Don'T Ask Me How

over the taps of fingers' dance she says dinner is ready giving me the appetizing chance insanity's remedy! it's her way to break my spell of words welled up in stack this medicine she applies well poems don't fill the stomach! till that time all she said were just bla bla bla till on the table dinner is laid wafts the food's aroma! it finds its target the poet's nostril shears the strings of thought a stir in the bowel kills the will drives me to get the dinner hot! fingers soon dance on the dinner plough feed my taste bud with sweet treat she knows it well don't ask me how to give me from poetry retreat!