In a room
Full of dishes, food, and maybe a broom
And a grandmother who likes to sing
While cooking her granddaughter’s favorite things
Potatoes, green beans, cornbread, and ham
Oh and don’t forget the jam
The granddaughter sits in her usual spot
On a stool next to a very big pot
That the grandmother places
On the table of empty spaces
Because, in the heart
Of the table is full of art
With candles, plates, and flowers
Which influences and empowers
However, it is not to be mistaken
For the heart of the kitchen
Isn’t the candles, plates, or flowers
That empowers
Nor is it the pot
From which is near the granddaughter’s usual spot
It is not the granddaughter’s favorite things
Made by the grandmother who likes to sing
But the heart of the kitchen is heard
By the grandmother who sings like a bluebird
That flutters into common things
And as she sings
The granddaughter will listen
Because, the heart of the kitchen
Comes from above
Armfuls and armfuls of grandmother’s love
Source for picture:Â https://www.pinterest.com/pin/104075441363108066/
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i love this piece. It made me think of my own grandmother and how she showed her love to me in the dishes she cooked and the food she made. The spirit of the kitchen is something that so many of us can relate to love, care, and family; your poem captures that beautifully.