A home-cooked meal for the soul

A poem

Today I made cabbage stew and it made me cry

It tasted like the one my mother used to make even though she never taught me how

Maybe there is a part of her in me that doesn’t need to be taught

It just comes out for surprise even though she is long gone

It sounds silly, I know it does

But lie to me and tell me this is true

just like the image of her smile my sorrow drew