Old Cookbooks

I’m tossing out most of my cookbooks;

Makes sense since I don’t really cook.

The pages are marked

From the times I embarked

On a challenge which I undertook.

 

Those recipes once brought me pleasure,

But now seem like much more of a pain.

I’ve got quite a good deal

Since my spouse makes each meal

So from kitchen work I can refrain.

 

Still, from reading the notes I once entered

On those pages all covered with stains,

I can wistfully say

Things are better this way

For at dinner now, no one complains.