Grandma's Soup

As the simmering soup lets out a dreamy aroma of spices, The scent wafts through the nose soothingly, Leaving the lungs with lively flavours, I guess that explains why we were bouncy. “This soup treats a cold” Grandma usually said while serving, All the children could not withhold, The joy of visiting grandma in spring. Her huge pot seemed bottomless, Yes, she never bought a smaller pot, On the dinner table, the soup brought a sense of closeness, The kind of love that cannot be bought. As I slip in the memories, The side of my mouth subtly curls up, Summing up the thought of copacetic spring medleys, And taking the soup in place of the syrup.