Monday, April 7, 2014

Biscotti Warm from the Oven

I remember smelling the warmth
From many blocks away
Mom baked her famous cookies
I would eat them straight from the oven.

Cinnamon, sugar, flour and vanilla
The kitchen full of love and comfort.
A glass of milk and four cookies on a plate.

Those were days of innocence
What childhood memories are made of.
Mommy with her apron 
Full of flour.

I smell the cookies now
In my days of age
And my tears flow slowly~
memories of long ago.

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