The pleasure was evident in
each flick of her wrist,
each jiggle of a pan,
each forkful
she brought to her mouth
Her impeccably clean hands
became less deft as
age settled in her joints
but always,
there was music in her voice,
a twinkle in her eye,
an appetite for life
in her heart.
that was very pretty, and wonderful word-use. Great imagery altogether, very nice poem ~Spencer Hudson