Tags
baking, Childhood, dorindaduclos.com, family, Italian, memories, nana, Night Owl Poetry, poems, poetry
My mind often wanders back
to the days of my childhood
the enticing smells emanating
from the small apartment kitchen
Fresh baked goods
adorned the dining table
patiently waiting to be completed
as the sauce simmered slowly
in the pot on the stove
Cookies, made to look like bow ties
lay naked, waiting to be dressed
with white sugar, sifted
the powder falling like snow flakes
Meatballs and sausage
crusty Italian bread
all kinds of luscious bites
completed the dinner table
Memories of Nana
her warm smile, her caring hugs
her no nonsense ways
were life’s beginnings
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