The managers of Cooks BBQ, for a time had personal items decorating the restaurant. When they retired the items went with them. The restaurant was never the same.


Home Away From Home

The arcane rustic building glides into view
Its roughhewn wooden exterior exudes warmth
The metal roof flashes in the sun
Nestled on a dirt road amongst homes and trees

The simple exterior hides a secret
Revealed as the door swings wide
Welcoming all that enter
Like a home away from home

Essicks and Timberlakes, adorn the wall
Portraying their home with warm strokes
Porcelain pigs, figurines and tapestries
Stare from their perch
Like supervisors overseeing the work

It gives the image of a rustic home place
That over the years has been brushed aside
By newer, slicker and faster but not better
Trimmed with southern grace and charm

It’s like the customers are a part of the family
A place where we could go to find comfort
The blast of odors as we open the door
A faint smell of burning hickory

The food cooked like the family is coming for dinner
Care, and an attention to details
That is not found anywhere else
That’s part of the charm
That’s part of the sadness that it’s just not mainstream

The succulent smoked pork, hush puppies
Spicy red slaw, dip, sweet tea
Chocolate pie and banana pudding
The food is just too good and the people so real

Mary Lou, the gracious southern lady
Jimmy baseball hat askew cooking according to his standards
Barbara boisterous and friendly
Lee Anne quiet, reserved and efficient
Michael a cook in training
Scott faithful until the end

It would be nice if things could stay the same
But sadly they can’t
Times change and places change
Priorities change not always for the better

The second home is going away
Where are we going for that sense of comfort?
Where do we go to share the joys and pain?
A new barbecue place but not another home place.



Poetry by Kee Zealy The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2025-11-11 at 09:14

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William Hughes The PoetBay support member heart!
Lovely, reflective descriptive poem. Yes, change is often a pain in the behind. But remembrance of beautiful things keeps them alive and an eternal inspiration and source of joy. Wordsworth emphasized this in many of his poems:

Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
2025-11-11