The overcooked idea

 It was something that flit by

that gave me pause in my thoughts

creating much chaos, I do not lie

refrain do I from connecting the dots?

Disturbed I am by something physical

but drawn to return to speculation so whimsical

A break in links often disturb my plans

if it wasn't for those pesky eyes

I would conjure those thoughts in shallow pans

and enjoy the newly made curry with some rice

but now I can do only little but weep

having been shaken from thoughts so deep

This is another moment lost

to a sound vibrating within my ears

I would have the idea on a roast

marveling it's taste with some pears

but it has been sadly sabotaged

by something so hopelessly camouflaged

I have lost the pattern in my thoughts

to a weird smell that reached my nostrils

I would boil the concept to a froth.....

but alas why do I feel so nasal

There is a sight that open my eyes

and a dry hiss pulls my ears

sitting on the cooktop in front of me

lies the burn remnants of nothing nice

smoke so strong it bring me to tears

and now I have no evening meal.

Note: This poem is about daydreaming while cooking. and not noticing that the food getting burnt is trying to pull you from your reverie, until it is too late