My Mother's Kitchen

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In my mother’s kitchen,

(Her daily domain)

I kissed her goodbye

Before I walked to school

While she ironed aprons,

Embroidered pillow cases,

My father’s boxer shorts

Porcelain ducks flew over the sink

Missing the window’s view

Of our maple leaves littering the street

And the dubious neighbours

(Not the ones with the pond filled with koi)

I stood there hours after supper

Beside the well-used stove

Butter tarts and cookies cooled,

Banana bread, coconut cream pie

In the oven, a regular roast,

The room warm with aroma

Of cinnamon and sage

The grey Formica table was in a nook

My dad had fashioned with aqua Naugahyde,

Hiding our barrel of monkeys and puzzles below;

On the weekends, we’d play rummoli

And when my mom got the giggles

We would all follow suit

On the rounded counter, the radio played

“These Boots are made for Walking”

And I would rush and don my little red boots

To dance around the green and grey tiles,

Washed, waxed and buffed to shine               

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October 21, 2017