I miss you

His large, ashy hands bigger than mines Stir the chicken noodle soup As he squeezes the phone in anger and swearing to the other person on the line. It smell so good in here The Red walls yell around me The dining table shine like his anger The stove, a heated volcano, ready to explode. He dosen't noticed me yet "Don't burn the soup." I said His eyes gaze towards me He chuckles and says "It's nothing you have to worry about Babygirl."