The color of food

Red bells of pepper,
like lips whispering flavor,
open their entrails and surrender to the cut,
dropping seeds like secrets to the wind.
Its skin shines with the blush of waiting.

On the white board, simplicity dances,
naked potatoes, newly born from the clay,
orange carrots like split suns,
await their fate between blades and fire.
A vegetal silence that anticipates creation

And in the pot, the symphony is assembled,
the chicken dozes under a bed of spices,
caressed by rings of carrot
and embraced by tongues of pepper.
A tableau of aromas yet to awaken,
a song that the heat will turn into a banquet.