As long as there is bread
I don’t mean your bread
I mean my bread and bread pudding
I don’t mean your memories
I mean my memories
I don’t mean your baking powder
I mean my yeast
As long as there is cake
Not chocolate cake
Fruit cake, not boxed
Scratched and taught
From calloused hands
That knew no rest
Empty pans meant fulfilled guests
And starting over with tomorrow’s meal
Meant prolonged life and hopeful zeal
For whatever memories we carry ahead
We’ll always remember from whence we fed
Oh yes I will tamper with a recipe or two
Eat someone else’s, try something new
I didn’t like it all, ran from her lamb stew
Years later discovered what the Armenians knew
My fondest memories come wrapped in all flavors
So whatever you offer, you know your memory I’ll savor
But if a cup of cold water is all you can give
Oh, that’s best of all, without that I shan’t live
ddversepoets.comTuesday prompt. Food! Marvelous food!!! (Oliver). One of my favorite pasttimes -cooking, baking, feeding and eating.
mehflowers 
Great poem. I like these lines especially,
“My fondest memories come wrapped in all flavors
So whatever you offer, you know your memory I’ll savor.” 🙂
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So happy you like it. Thank you!
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You are welcome. 🙂
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A beautiful poem, Mary. I have learned to like a lot of new flavors since we were married! Love the cup of cold water reference!
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Thanks Dwight! You know what they say about bread and water!😁🙂
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Hey Dwight, did you catch my “sweet side of sorrow”? A couple weeks ago you said you were waiting for my sweet side of something and I posted the next day.
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No, I have not heard that one!
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Very nice poem, and a real sense of food and hospitality as art and craft, was intrigued by the Armenian reference…
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Thank you! Ah, they know how to cook it!
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You really catch the importance of food – and the way it builds relationships. I like the first stanza particularly – it reminded me of some of the kitchen “discussions” I’ve had over the years…
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Thank you Sarah! It can build them or stick a wedge between them!
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Beautiful, Mary. Could you please explain this particular line to me?
Thanks ❤
David
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Haha! I think my mom must have used old mutton in her stew. She would try to tell us it was beef but the odor and flavor spoke otherwise. Then I had roast lamb prepared by an Armenian woman and she didn’t tell,me what I was eating. And being the polite and shy person I was, I never asked, but did ask for seconds. When I found out it was lamb I was hooked. Ever since then I love a “good” lamb! Also my trip to Israel in 99 and my caregiver to a Lebanese couple introduced me to Mediterranean food and I eat it as often as I can get it! I still am not confident enough to prepare one….some memories are stuck in stone.
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yummy! thanks for explaining, Mary
❤
David
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Love the conversational flavour to this – and where the poem eventually takes the reader – the message in the final couplet.
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Thank you! May all my words lead to the final couplet!
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“But if a cup of cold water is all you can give…” yes, giving and sharing…making memories.
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After all the yummy flavours. The essence of kindness in that cup of water. Really nice poem Mary
Much love…
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What a wonderful poem of gratitude – especially those last lines! How many of us take clean drinking water for granted?
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I think we live by capturing food memories, and the best are always those that we eat and share with frineds.
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Mary, I can tell you enjoyed writing this. I surely enjoyed reading it.
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“My fondest memories come wrapped in all flavors,” love this! Such a gorgeous, gorgeous poem, Mary 😀
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