In summer years,
smooth, sure hands baked chocolate chip cookies
-listening to school drama, boys, future dreams
-innocent babble, delighted childhood
drowning in scented gooey chocolate.
Nana lovingly baked these cookies for years...
childhood, adolescence, adulthood
-smooth, sure hands baked our special cookies
-always listening, molding formless batter
flecked with necessary imperfections, but
In winter years,
wrinkled, cancer shaken hands no longer baked
-the comforting abandoned recipe, back-shelved
-cold, unwelcome kitchen with no heavenly aroma...
no innocent babble...no smooth, sure hands.
Weakly fragile she spoke, "Why don't we have some
cookies? I really have a taste for them today."
Gnarled, giving hands trembled with age...yet, I loved them
pressed into my own. So now I walked one last time
into the kitchen to bake our chocolate chip cookies.
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