"The Frying Pan Man" - a poem by Michelle (me)

I once knew a man with a frying pan
many frying pans had he
his kitchen had space for nothing else
not a cupboard or shelf was free
stacked in the rafters
stacked in the drawers
as far as the eye could see
were Wagner, Lodge and Griswold
numbers ten, nine and three

I once went to visit the frying pan man
he griddled some kippers for tea
he spoke of Griswold and Wagner
and their colonial history

The three-legged cauldron found its place
over hearth and fire it hung
provided generations with stews and such
and many stories were spun

Old pots and pans they swung their way
by sea, horse and carriage
to country homes and old woodstoves
and in times as gifts for marriage

Hundreds of years later by the woodstove I sat
with frying pan man and old sleepy cat
I could not help but wonder why
those griddles and pans were stacked so high
then when he told his stories to me
those stacks of history became clear to see

The blackened griddle seared its prey
its vapours did unfold
not only smell of kippers but of stories yet untold

I once knew a man with a frying pan
many frying pans had he
If you happen to visit the frying pan man
make sure to stay for tea

Drawing by Lillie - Granddaughter of the "Frying Pan Man"