My Grandfather’s Clock

was always the tune
my grandmother sang to me

when she blended
the butter, rum

and deep brown sugar
to make a delicacy

fit for an angel’s tongue.
It kept a young girl

mesmerised for the way
the song became

the food and the food
the song so when today

I blend the butter she taught me
in my far colder kitchen

the music is the recipe
that makes the magic dance.