JUICE. His parched dreams are jumble of guava, berries, citrus.
SPRIG of negligible shrub, its fibrous leaves make for lunch.
FAITH in a rescue at times waxes, mostly wanes. He fantasizes simple fare:
PENNE pasta in an Arrabbiata sauce.
Note: this is continuing yesterday’s theme (see: https://dailyquordlepoem.com/2023/03/08/stranded/): a chef who somehow has gotten stranded on an atoll. Funny that today’s words lent themselves to extending mine from yesterday. These are among my more slender efforts, imo, but they demonstrate some of the serendipitous fun of DQP: happy accidents in the succession of words, even across days.