Mother’s kitchen is a special place
Where rolls and cakes and corn fritters are baked daily
It is a chocolate shop
With rich, oozing delights dripping from the wooden spoon
Overlooking the snow topped peaks of a winter flurry
And receiving a cool breeze from between the shutters
The crisp tiled floor arranged in blocks of granite
Chills the toes and senses
Cinnamon whirls its way into a creamy batter
And glazes mount and stack over cupcakes
Eagerness fills grandpa’s eyes
As he sits with fork and knife and bib over chest
Mother’s kitchen is a happy place
Filled with the sunshine of a summer afternoon
And where closing time does not occur