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Poem

Dedicated to My Moma

My favorite appliance is not my own
or even located inside of my home.
No matter where on this earth I rove,
I gladly returned to my Mother’s stove.
My family lived all over the world
so her stove's colors are memory swirl,
but they all had one trait in common -
ensuring nutrition was never a problem.
My Mother’s stove is like sacred ground
where memories are both kept and found.
There have been accidents and experiments,
all kinds of assorted stove incidents.
There have been familiars, real dinner winners,
and tasty treats turning everyone into grinners.
Always her stove turned dinners to love
that sated and thrilled my taste buds.
My Mother’s stove has the perfect flare
for keeping me and mine, family aware.
I wish for mealtime recall ever vibrant
to stay my prime Mother-joy alignment.

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