Stuff of Life

After mother
died,
our grandmother
moved in
to take
care of us.

She'd bake bread
early in the morning
and I'd have it
for breakfast,
still hot,
steaming,
slathered
with butter,
and
I'd   
      dip
the bread
into my coffee,
hot, too,
with a heaping teaspoon of sugar,
and I'd make it tan
with the sweet,
canned milk.

When she
got cancer,
grandmother
moved
away,
so her daughter
could
care for her,
while
she
died.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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