Mom’s Kitchen


I remember mom’s kitchen

as the most sacred room in the house.

Family came together every night

no matter what happened in the day.


Mom’s kitchen made us smile.

She would see her children’s hunger

vanish at the table she set

and the thirsty glasses she filled.


Mom would go to the market

every weekend with meals creating

delicious swirls in her mind.

She would hand pick each ingredient

like a proud farmer welcoming

abundance after a long hard harvest.


But the magic really began

in the way she prepared every meal.

Cleaned, cut, chopped, prepped with a grin

and a dash or toss of this, and a sprinkle of that.

There were no cups that dared measure

what her heart could offer up

to a mixing bowl or a casserole.


I remember me and my mom

In the kitchen, as beads of her sweat poured

from the pots of pasta and steam.

Always filling her basket with giving,

to her, it was the recipe for living.


A big simmering pot, seasoned with the best

of everything that she has to give,

and a quiet room of meaningful intention

to fill with everyone she holds so dear.


~ jeffrey vionito


2 thoughts on “Mom’s Kitchen

  1. Ascension Angel says:

    That’s great… love it 😀

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