Poetry – At Cathy’s House

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.