As a child I hovered near the oven
as turkey aroma spread through our home.
Mom knew by a craving I was driven,
and from this spot her youngest would not roam.
Mom giggled heartily; she knew the drill.
Liver was nearly done, brother still in bed.
A battle brewed with hunger pangs to kill,
so Mom ensured the liver I was fed.
*Entry for Sara’s “A Pleasant Childhood Memory” contest