Picked

She takes tasty tea leaves from China;
as for eggs, exclusively dappled duck.
Her milk must surely be soya bean,
declines dairy whenever I cook.

Wears soft silk skirts on sensitive skin;
only dons diamonds mined in Middle Earth.
She seeks select spices from Sri Lanka,
takes time to take account of their worth.

Her green glass must only be half-full,
for spirits she shan’t stomach a lot.
She wouldn’t say her harvest was plentiful
but she seems satisfied with what she got.

Mariachi music must be played perfectly perpetually,
delicately dims down the living room light.
It isn’t that she can’t countenance being wrong,
it’s more that she likes things just right.

Her Bulgarian baked brown bread is rising,
her best baker guarantees gluten free.
It makes me merry that someone so picky
took the time to select someone like me.

Copyright © 2016 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.

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