Spoons
Memories of my grandma’s kitchen
Wood carved by hand, now bent and warped
Stirring porridge or cookie dough
Sitting in the drawer amongst other utensils
Memories of my mother’s kitchen
The harsh reality of wooden pain
Brandished with angry blows, hitting my arms and legs
An ever present threat resting on the counter
Memories of my kitchen
The curved stripes of smooth olive and acacia wood
Tossing fresh baby greens and dressing
Reminders of Provence held in a Pottery vase
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February 2, 2010
Salynne