_________________________

Trekking through my mind,
Back to my years near seven.
I found bake days in the kitchen.
A young lads heaven.

Apples and cinnamon,
Cookies and spice,
A warm toasty kitchen,
True paradise.

Mom in her apron
Singing and humming away,
And me at the table
Out of the way.

Watching and hoping
With all my soul,
That I'd get a chance
To lick each bowl.

I can almost taste
The little tart or cake,
That just for me
My Mom would bake.

I savor the old memories
To me they're fantastic,
I'ts a shame the new ones
Come wrapped in plastic.
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10/09/2001

Posted on 10/09/2001
Copyright © 2025 Charles E Minshall