The Spark under the Bark
It was when she met my eyes
that I saw the ravenous quest for meaning
It was when she spoke low and slow
that I heard the appetite for intelligent debate filled evenings
It was when she ate with hungry intent
that I felt the need to abandon the frienship famine
It was when she smiled with soft lips tilting upwards
that I knew for certain she shared a peckish sense of humour
It was when she said goodbye and ended the night with warmth of heart
that I understood the craving-hunger that churns the hunkering-yearning
for the good delivered only by female soul food
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