In the Kitchen
Mama used to go to the center and
stomp her left foot down hard
on that old maple wood.
Then close her eyes and tighten her
jaws and clap her hands as she would
Look up and say:
Thank you!
Thank you!
Thank you!
The smell of butter biscuits, bacon and eggs
always drew me in before she could call
us in to eat.
I always wondered who she was talkin' to
being that she was in there alone.
Copyright © Stewart Watkins | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment