Scratch
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My daddy was a roughneck and he worked the oil patch.
He ate his eggs and biscuits that my mommy made from scratch.
Pies and cakes and everything from scratch was always made.
That was the best, the ladies said - the rule they all obeyed.
So I watched her while she made it, and fixed us up a batch.
I saw flour and eggs and butter, but I never saw that scratch.
I saw everything she added, and I watched real close, I swear.
That scratch must be invisible; I couldn't spot it anywhere.
I guess there is some magic in the scratch, I must admit.
Especially at grandma's, who makes everything from it.
So if I should ever marry, for me a perfect match
is a girl just like my mommy, who makes our food from scratch.
April 10, 2015
Roy Jerden
Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2015
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