My Mother's Kitchen

by Stella Mazur Preda
Ontario, Canada

walls whisper untold secrets
tired linoleum painfully scarred
creaking floor boards played ominous tunes,
sinister and creepy
even as morning light tickled
window panes and frolicked with shadows
best of all
that old kitchen floor tilted downhill
several inches
          from one end
                    to the other

on cold winter nights
we roller-skated circles
up and down its slopes
worked up an appetite
for motherís old-fashioned
sugar cookies

on hot summer days
hazy stagnant air
hung with the aroma of spices
and simmering sweet fruits
as mother boiled and bottled
homemade jams

Mother was at her best
in that crooked kitchen
where walls whispered
sunlight danced with shadows
and the old floor tilted
downhill

 

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[NOTE: Tower Poetry 50#2 is out of print]