The aroma of the saffron-veiled food wafting from the kitchen shelf is an assault,
Undeniably delicious in its pungent scent,
Flavors advertising themselves as enticing before even a nibble crosses the lips.
You tell me you do not like Indian food, and this is understandable.
I do not like so many things, but when the spicy saffron scent arrives,
Announcing itself in all its expensive and decadent glory,
I know the gesture is a simple one that's just for me.
I have always liked spice so much more than you do, and that may be the simple reason
You've loved me for what seems like lifetimes.
Isn't that the meaning of true love?
It isn't glittering jewels or flawless roses, but the sacrifice of one's own happiness to another.
Your sacrifice is my delight, although there is some guilt in that admission.
Guilt is a temporary emotion, fading at the slightest hint of saffron
Floating in the air, proudly presenting devotion in the form of temptation and delight.
There are worse ways to say "I love you."
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Baubles And Bubbly
Poetry* A Wattpad Featured Story* Thought bubbles escape like champagne-scented daydreams if not caught firmly but gently between loving fingers. A simple challenge for an aspiring poet and avid wisher upon stars: make the ephemeral something of tangibl...
