Grandma’s Kitchen (A Poem)

Yellow cabinets, like sunflowers are planted on top of floral walls,
the sink is clean; the lemon scent still lingering in the corners, 

the cooker whistles, and the sound echoes excitedly, bringing smiles to the waiters, making Grandma herself hurry to the stove. 

The smell of meat overpowers everything; as every second passes by, our mouths salivate childishly. 

Awaiting Grandma’s voice, soft and sweet, calling us to dinner; a lovely family reunion. 

She mixes the curry, places the rice on the table, sets everything in place; a perfectionist. 

Round table, for everyone to join, none to miss. Merriment and stories pass around like a bowl of nachos and chips. 

Clinks and clanks of utensils and glasses, Grandma’s face is lighted up, with love and happiness.

Dirty dishes, finger licking fingers, stained stove, but in the end, for Grandma, it was all worth while; her everyday life story told in short.


– Love you Grandma. I miss the taste of your food. 


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