Rosa's Risotto
 

Another late night when my eyes would not close
My friend Rosa called me knowing my pain
Her deep slow voice thick alla Milanese
Calming and soothing, much like the rain
She told me to come to her warm tiled kitchen
Where she would prepare for me hot saffron risotto
"Something to stick to the soul" she said then
As the clock at her doorway talked away time
I arrived slightly numbed by the cool autumn chill
And hurting with all which had made me so ill
Much like Rosa, head wrapped in a soft silken scarf
Dragging her feet across terra cotta tile
In slippers she swore the dead wouldn't wear
We laughed at just that and more without care
As she worked with the Carnaroli and garlic and wine
The saffron and sugar and reduced chicken stock
Wafting billows of steam so savoury with life
And Rosa with one foot in heaven that night
With the sights and the smells and the sounds of her kitchen
The risotto simmered slowly, softening our words
Rosa talked of our life and our children and husbands
She talked of our illness and our pain and our dying
Chided me for covering it all in such sorrow
Told me to wear it with a bright flashy smile
"It's your badge of courage, you just don't know it"
In her thick heavy accent amidst the smell of risotto
Now sticky with parmesan and grana padano
"It should be tender but rich, and moist and quite glossy"
And she lit three candles there in small ceremony
Then we sat talking softly as we ate at her table
Sipping rich Bardalino from where she was born
Savouring slowly that special sweet saffroned risotto
Alla Rosa Milanese in her kitchen that night
And I stand here now gazing out of my window
Hearing her words and remembering that taste
Of a life which she left just this past evening
In her long painful battle she really did win
With her kindness and loving I will always remember
That night of risotto which gave me new courage
To continue to fight right to the end