She cooks in an apron,
smells like she is cooking bacon,
my stomach growls,
which makes our dog howl.
I look toward the kitchen hungry,
though if I walk in she will get angry,
my curiosity is filled with wonder,
what might she be cooking I ponder.
Just a quick look is all I need,
after all I just want to feed,
sneaking to the door I peak,
alas is the smell of meat.
A soft smile crosses her lips,
as she sits with coffee she sips,
I look around with desire,
though her apron is a liar.
Looking at me she gives me a smirk,
she has made me look like a ****,
moving a spoonful of honey,
she tortures me knowing my sin is Gluttony.
