I’m not the best poet but decided to enter this in a poetry contest.
At Cathy’s House
Apara Mahal Sylvester
Cathy is my Godmother, as sweet as can be.
On holidays she cooked decadents for all to see.
Ham with a touch of sugar, a mouthful delight.
Lush steaming green beans pleasing to sight.
Turkey, eggs and mashed potatoes too.
At the end of the meal the smell of coffee, fresh brew.
Lest I not forget the cookies and cakes.
As many as I wanted, mine for the takes.
There is not just one food which I can choose.
Every dish was my favorite, none would lose.
More than anything, I loved the taste of memories made.
In those long, long ago childhood days.