Flavours

Once I dreamt that if I were your wife,
Then I would set the table with flair,
Collect the recipes you like in a book,
Create dishes that could bring delight.

The dream meant spicy chicken soups,
Roti and dal and whatever was special;
Yet you and I remained just a dream,
And this book of magic was forgotten.

When I did became a wife in real, 
I could not please him with my skill,
For he was really skilful as a cook
And never knew how to praise a wife.

Here, he cooks and calls me a beginner,
While I sit quietly and smile ironically.