Quilting the Poems

Love Story of Cooktop and Refrigerator

I see you daily
freezing inside, yet maintaining the freshness,
the light of your being illuminating the world.
I understand your relation with electricity,
just like me.
I, too, am handicapped,
supported by the pipe feeding me gas;
dependent like you are to your current-feeding cable.

Sometimes, I burn for you-- my flames flaring
beyond my control.
But then I recall your bright, cold draft
and then the fire slowly withers.

As frigid air of winters blow over me,
I allow myself to be lulled by the temperature
of the dew hanging outside.
Will I ever be cold enough to merge in you
or hot enough to melt you?

Don't you say never;
I hear it in your sighs.
There is an answer,
a place where we will be together.
If not here then away from the realm of science,
maybe in scrapyard.
But we'll be together.