Who’s Cooking
When I walk to the shops
along the footpath, down
by the winter-filled stream,
I look to where the pub is,
scaffolding on the frontage
and tables still on the lawn,
the carpark weedy and wild,
and I stare up at the pub roof,
the sky falling on the beams
and rafters, and I wonder
who was cooking that night
when the place burnt down.
Written for Fandango’s One Word Challenge “cook”. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
It's Still Life 
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