Forty Two

Forty Two

Emotionless, expressionless,
Curved glass and steel,
Stashed in the corner
Of a stuffy kitchen.

What is a kettle’s purpose?
Obvious answer:
Boil water.
Is that all I’m here to do?

There must be something else,
Something I’m missing,
A deeper meaning.
Warmth.

Bubbling water dances,
Steam curls and sings.
Heat fogs frosted glass,
Thawing icy mornings.

The father wakes up first,
Flicks me on, pours me out
Into a coffee mug.
I help start his day
Alert and awake

The mother comes next,
Reheats me for her tea.
Relaxing with a magazine,
I give peace to her hectic day.

Cups of hot coco
For children home from school
Sighs of content
I ease anxious minds

When visitors visit,
They laugh and hug.
Then somebody asks
“Shall I put the kettle on?”

I am so much more than a boiler of water,
I’m the cosy warmth keeping winter at bay.
I’m the welcome to strangers and friends alike,
I’m the eye of the storm on a stressful day.

I warm, I help, I heal.
I am a kettle,
And this
Is my purpose.