Marmalade

Fresh home made bread with a crusty crust,
Butter from old Bill’s farm down the lane,
Marmalade from the orange grove,
Thick rind with a hint of cinnamon,
Newly picked apple juice from the squeezer,
Coffee aroma fills the air,
All that missing is Carole,
Her face across the breakfast table,
Now a memory,
R I P Carole.




Poetry by JohnJohn
Read 382 times
Written on 2023-03-12 at 09:58

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Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Devastating; a hard punch that you can't protect yourself from
2023-03-13


Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
An exceptional poem, JJ. Life is full of 'triggers'. Your poem's words might have easily been mine in respect of someone I loved greatly. My Grandma. I always remember the times we spent together eating breakfast when I was a young lad. Blessings and love, Allen
2023-03-12


D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
And how all the nice things presented to us, are as but ashes compared to your loss. This to me was such a strong poem as it saves it's message until the last.

Thanks John John
2023-03-12



Vivid and immediate and poetically powerful: an excellence.
2023-03-12