Apples baked with cinnamon,
Postre panne thick on fingers.
butter, brown sugar, more cinnamon
You always let me lick my fingers
made sure I washed up after,
on my blue stool in your kitchen
You seemed ageless in your apron.
had embroidered mine with roses.
I was three, four, five and couldn't
imagine my world without you and
apples baked with cinnamon.
Cool...I love the smell of cinnamon.
ReplyDeletemmmm i want some...smiles...and i know that attached to that there are memories...i am in my moms kitchen in my thouhgts....very nice....
DeleteYou have my mouth watering for apples with cinnamon!
ReplyDeleteOh, yum! You didn't have to say much about the treat you were preparing for me to see it, taste it, and smell it, too. Then the addition of the blue stool and the aprons, oh, my...over the top wonderful scene.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely tribute to your mom or perhaps your grandmother. The baked apples do sound delicious! I have not thought of them in years!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Victoria…I was there. It made me think of times with my Grandmother.
ReplyDelete