Profile
Photos
Comments
Those homemade meals of days gone by,
Mon's breads and cakes and, oh, the pie!
Meals were started with a prayer,
The entire family gathered there.
My heart recalls the sharing,
of food and tales and cares.
Whatever we were bearing
was always lightened there.
Our mother cooked by pinch and feel
No receipe per se. From scratch just meant
the real deal,
A labour of love three times a day.
The meals weren't fancy or gourmet,
But oh, were they delicious!
Remembering now, though old I be,
They tasted just like love to me.
