Memories on silverware

Love is the secret spice of all my mother's recipes.

Through a long day
follows long sighs;
sleep deprived eyes
and sweat soaked nerves
carrying thickened blood corpuscles
begging for a seasoned meal
packed of homesickness,
on a side of sweetened canned juice
barely adding to the vitamins
but to the palette regardless,

memories are calories I'm sucker for
that I add to my plate
already having a lot,
on those evenings I have all to myself
to vent my weighing breaths.

Author's Note

Grateful for reading always!

Reviews

[Marie]

A wondrous metaphoric gem in this eloquently penned poem, dear P. V... Memories are food for heart, mind and spirit when they are good and if they are not good they poison the heart, mind and spirit in reverse. So lovely to have happy and joyful memories of home, of beautiful meals cooked with love by Mammy. These are the memories we keep closest to us, dear P. V... They continue to feed us a good nutritional diet. I love how you have expressed this delightful poem and how easily it flows down the page like a raindrop on a window, it just slides down. You created both an amazing tribute to your lovely Mam's cooking and an equally amazing poem too. Thank you so very much for sharing, my dear friend. I so enjoyed reading. Sending love and hugs...

[Poetic_Vixen]

I'm so glad you got the whiff of my mum's traditional cooking and sweet taste into my poetry, I rejoice with the realisation it reflected well, you gave my poems more meaning with such a sharp summary I couldn't conclude well enough myself. I'm so grateful for this lovely review my dear friend!

Sending you hearty hugs and warm love ❤️

[Marie]

Your beautiful poetic gems are ever a true delight to read, my dear friend. Sending you hugs with love too, dear P. V .. 🤗♥️🤗

[Ken Simm.]

I love and enjoy that recipe for added love.

[Poetic_Vixen]

I'm glad you did, sir!