Mama’s kitchen
The dishwasher is on the fritz
I’ve got to wash every dish.
I lay them there to let them dry.
I close the door with a sigh.
Counters are next they have to shine.
Like this poem needs to rhyme.
The stove has residue of grease,
And the cabinets are on extended lease.
The fridge must get its daily wipe.
Floors always needs to shine bright.
Kitchen’s ready for the main course.
And mama’s there in full force.
Sauces simmer and water boils
Garlic bread in aluminum foil.
Pasta al dente ready to eat.
My mama prepares a daily feast.
Tomorrow it will begin again
Let’s see what wonders reign.
Will it be a tender roast?
A subject of future boasts.
The kitchen is clean and waiting
For mama’s artistic creating.
But I’m the one that takes the helm
The kitchen is now my realm.
Inside I try to light the embers,
Recreate what I can remember.
I hear her whispers guiding me.
This is her legacy, I have the key.
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