I’m at home in the kitchen.

Maybe it’s lineage.
Maybe its because I had to clean my plate before I left the table.

I thought, depression years.
We dare not waste the rations of war.

We will consume them.
Taste, does it matter?

My mother baked, and baked, and baked.
I feed you so you will live one more day.
Is that not love?

I am at home in the kitchen.

About Mary (tqhousecat)

I am a wife and a mother of two grown children. I love Jesus and sharing my faith through written words. I currently have a poetry blog and also write on medium.com. My main focus is hope in Christ. I only wish that whoever reads this will be blessed, inspired and occasionally amused.
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