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.
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