The aroma of curry fills our kitchen one sunny afternoon,
Its smell is as amazing as chocolate drizzled on a spoon.
An Indian tradition passed down from generations as my father feverishly cooks,
No recipe needed, a little soy sauce here, and a little curry there using no books.
Adding chicken, vegetables,
And an Indian style sauce filled with strong spice . . .
All topped upon a bed of white, fluffy rice.
While scooping a spoonful of curry,
I feel a scratching on my leg that feels furry.
Turning to see what’s touching my leg,
it’s just my dog wanting to beg.
He jumps up and knocks down the bowls,
Not to mention an entire pan of baked rolls.
Anticipating my first bite of curry, finally taking a big steaming hot bite,
However, something was not tasting quite right.
My face turning bright red,
As a runaway looking for some warm bread..
Pouring milk into my mouth to eliminate the spicy taste
Nothing seems to work as now I’m in a haste.
Hoping to never eat curry again,
I won’t eat Indian food again.