The Staff Of Life

This morning as the sun shone bright
I felt a sudden joy within
This was a day for making,
The staff of life

I could already see it in the tins,
But dreams don't come true,
All by themselves

As I learned, when I was ten,
When after all the toil and baking,
I took the first bite,
A crust of golden bread,
With melted butter, flowing
It was a food for kings and queens.

A memory of long ago,
Learning as I watched a loving mother,
Make the weekly bread
A dozen loaves and pies and cake,
Often on the table spread.

by Gladys M. Garske

Other poems of GLADYS M. GARSKE (1)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.