She stood in the kitchen, she and I.
For days I had been thinking: ask it today.
But because I was ashamed of my question
I waited for a moment to find her off guard.
But now, seeing her busy in her little workshop,
and seeing the chance that I wanted
that her answer would be be unprepared,
I asked: what would you have me write about?
Just then the kettle blew its high-pitched whistle,
enveloping her in a cloud shooting upwards
towards the margarine smoke and the ventilator.
Then she answers, as she slowly pours
boiling water over the coffee grounds
and the smell begins to spread: I have no idea.
(Martinus Nijhoff)
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Based on Topics: Thought & Thinking Poems, Chance Poems, Coffee Poems, Idea PoemsBased on Keywords: enveloping, high-pitched, margarine, ventilator