Poem #29

Homemade soup
for cold days
chicken with dumplings
permeates the house
and smells like grandpa's house
where there was always food cooking
Sunday morning crepes and sausage
that I could never hope to make
at home
but the promise of which
would rouse me from slumber
to head to grandpa's house
oh, grandpa's house
and holidays
always the smell of food
always always
and I try to see grandma there
but I can't reach her
she is as gone to me
as the smells are to the house
quiet house
no cooking
and I can't even think
about going back inside