Fresh home made bread with a crusty crust,
Butter from old Billís 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 95 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

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

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

Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
Vivid and immediate and poetically powerful: an excellence.