
Today, I cleaned up my old kitchen
In preparation for some baking
For here is where it all happens,
Those memories in the making.
Windows fogged up from the heated oven,
Crowned in curtains, made long ago by me.
Ingredients lovingly strewn on the counter,
Soon become cookies, as you will see.
Sights and smells and sounds galore
All bring back memories of Christmases past,
Baking cookies, by foggy windows,
Candles burning and memories that last.
The laughter of her little children
Lives in a mother’s heart forever,
And baking cookies for those children’s children
Seems like such a noble endeavor.
Watching little faces light up as they smile
And spy the cookies that Grandma has made.
And smell the smells, and see the treats,
That’s the stuff of memories that don’t fade.
So, come into this grandma’s kitchen,
Sit down, please, and stay awhile
Have a cookie, and a glass of milk.
And we’ll talk……. and we’ll smile.

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