In my Mothers Kitchen
Poem by : Susan Lower
My mother’s kitchen was worn with age.
In the old farm house,
where we lived and played.
She kept it nice and tidy.
The glasses always washed.
Not a plate out of place.
On the old red linoleum floors.
I did roller skate.
I learned to bake a cake.
Without a book, without any taste.
There I watched from the window,
my sisters kiss their dates.
My mother’s kitchen held a telephone.
Where my sisters stretched the cord,
and hid behind the next door.
Inside the wall of this place.
Comfort grew without the frills of lace.
Never were we late
when Mother called us in from the barn.
My mother’s kitchen is where I knew she’d be.
When I came racing home from school.
She always stood waiting for me.
Nigel Borrington 
What a lovely image and wonderful poem, Nigel. 🙂 I love the simple composition – the broom makes the shot!
June 4, 2013 at 2:21 pm
Hello Sharon 🙂
Thank you, very pleased you like this images and the poem…
Got your message early, WRSoon, thanks 🙂
June 4, 2013 at 3:31 pm
That’s a very lovely image Nigel . It goes perfectly with poem .
Oh yes cord stretched … racing home from school always knowing Mum would be waiting .. comfort grew … how evocative I have found those words .
I love this post .
June 5, 2013 at 4:15 pm
Hello Poppy 🙂
I am very pleased that you liked and enjoyed this post 🙂
June 5, 2013 at 5:58 pm
Oh, what a great shot! I love the Lower poem.
June 5, 2013 at 7:20 pm
Hello Elen 🙂
Thank you, very pleased you enjoyed 🙂
June 6, 2013 at 12:29 am
Loved the images in your poem! Takes me back to a pleasant time in my own life.
July 28, 2013 at 10:14 pm
Hello OSb :), Very happy that you enjoyed this post !
July 29, 2013 at 4:28 pm