one less egg to fry

your stupid, but
lovable
stove has died.
it just stopped
working. it was only
forty six
years old, but
you depended on
it. day and night.
it was the sun
rising,
the moon in
the sky. always
there for you.
finally
it cooked
its last meal.
fried its last
egg. made
the tea pot
whistle one
final time.
you loved that
stove, with its
modern
push buttons,
with all the numbers
worn off.
the creaky door
on loose hinges,
with that space age
window, not unlike
the one on
the Gemini capsule.
you'll miss
how sometimes
the coils
would catch fire
and you'd have
to blast it
with the fire
extinguisher, or
dampen the flames
with a wet dish towel.
how many chickens
you baked,
pans of brownies,
and that one
time you
cooked an oven
mitt to a nice
charred crispy
finish. you are
going to miss your
old ge 27 inch
drop in electric
stove. white with
silver trim. god bless
you little old
machine.