When the Old Lady Bakes...Again

Revisiting the old lady who seemed to have a fondness for baking young men. Out of context, that sounds incredibly inappropriate; this is just a rewrite of a poem I put up a while ago. The focus has shifted a little and ambiguity has taken up residence in most of the stanzas. Yay.

This Sunday is as good a day
as any,
to whip up a miracle or two.
That's just what she'll do.
Yes, she'll give shape to that wonder-
and then, perhaps, knit a scarf.

Flipping through recipe cards,
cross-referenced and alphabetized,
she chooses her newest InstaCompanion® .
The granite counter-top glistens
in anticipation, while the wooden spoon
gets set for all the action.

A few aseptic techniques
and a pre-heated oven look on,
as the glorious intention is birthed.
In a special bowl,
of appropriate dimensions,
she nurtures the new-born idea.

Pinches of this and dashes of that.
Combat the blandness with a little intelligence.
Fondling the electric beater, she
lets the aroma of new life hang in the air.
Meanwhile, the wit, arrogance, and ideal jaw-line
are marinated in a tangy, hypnotic sauce.

Though she frowns upon superficiality,
appearances do matter.
Add some protein to the batter.
One and a half teaspoons of sincerity.
Then sieve in the charm
and a couple of splashes of inherited wealth.

Eugenics is all the craze these days...

To finish off, mix in an unwavering devotion
to the hand that created him.
And of course, before she forgets,
add good humour- to taste.
She would have garnished him
with her secret ingredient...

But only amateurs can afford to miss
the beginning of Jeopardy.