Just tall enough to see the stove top
I watch my mother fry baloney in a cast iron pan.
Staticky pops and sizzles fill the kitchen
alongside the primitive aroma of meat in fire.
Jittery with hunger and excitement,
I ask Mom not to slit the slice
and giggle when the center puffs
like a little meat sombrero.
Nothing describes my childhood better
than a sandwich of fried baloney,
American cheese, yellow mustard
on Wonder bread given to me
by a loving mother.
Today’s Poetry Prompt: Describe a childhood memory using poetic language.
For today’s prompt, we have our first two-for-Tuesday prompt: write a happy poem and/or write a sad poem.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged baloney, childhood, napowrimo, poem, Poem-A-Day. Bookmark the permalink.
(Visited 2 times, 1 visits today)