Yellow, creamy, sweet.
My mother made lemon butter.
Golden, creamy, sharp
It sighed into jars, retrieved from the cupboard
It heaped into jars, recycled and quirky
My mother made lemon butter
It exploded on my tongue
Followed, buttery sunshine
It filled my spoon
Like liquid, honeyed love
My mother made lemon butter
Yellow as my hair
Sweet as my curls
Sharp as my will
I consume it all.
When you taste it, daughter
Will you think of me?
No comments:
Post a Comment