Cheese
yesterday
turkey with apple and Brie slices
(warmed up enough to melt slightly)
today
leftover pasta with fresh-grated Parmesan
(or more correctly, Parmesan with pasta)
tomorrow
mushroom quiche, full of shredded Mozzarella
(maybe I make this too often)
never ever
Kraft singles (wrapped in plastic) are not cheese!
© April 2019
Mother’s Kitchen
The lights were off. The curtains drawn.
Only the furnace purred away like Sam and Oliver
after a meal of canned salmon. The floors were spotless,
all chairs tucked under the pine table that held
today’s bouquet of daisies. Every day,
a different flower from the garden, cut with care,
trimmed with grace and love, fed with Grandmas’ secret mix
of filtered water and sugar. Another recipe passed on.
All cupboards neat. All drawers arranged as soldiers on parade.
Each tea towel hung just so, sterilized and bright as summer days
can be, with love and kisses planted on each photo on the wall of honour.
So quiet and so spotless, hardly ever used these days, by those
who, left behind mourn mother’s passing on, cannot bring themselves
to open up a drawer or search a pantry shelf for anything,
and not be moved to tears.
For she is gone, and she is irreplaceable.
© April 2019
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