Home Cooking

I never wondered what

my birth mother smelled like

never pondered the

sound of her voice

or scratch in her laugh

Or if I did, I don’t remember

There are lots of things

I don’t remember

Memories my mind

keeps me safe from

They leak into my dreams

at times

Leaving me haunted

for days

I bet she smelled like home

cooking

and sweet peaches

and sunlight

I bet her laugh is

loud, when she really

lets it out.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s