My Favourite Dish
When mom would make her apple pies, and I was very small
I would stand upon a kitchen chair, so that I could see it all
She would open up the Crisco can, and a flour canister
And soon, before my very eyes, some pie dough would appear
She would roll the dough, line her dish, then let me have a try
She would save a piece of pastry for a doll sized dish I prized...
Side by side, she would show me how, but mine would be a mess!!
Her patience was amazing.…. as she sought to grant my wish
The petals of her apple slices, layered neatly into rows
Most of mine in disarray, some landing on my toes!
A sparkling touch of sugar sweet, and some golden butter bows
Such praise I got, ....the oven hot, .....then off to bake it goes...
We’d watch them turn a golden brown…as love filled up my nose
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment