— by Margie Doyle —
In the Bosom of Bread
There was a long-lost time
When I had a home
I made bread
The smell filled my home
The warmth, the soul of bread
I had a friend in time
Without a care, I ate the bread
And then I lost my friend, time
I sought a new home
Time after time, I bring new bread home,
Made by someone unknown
This poem is a pleasure on my “internal” tongue (as are the thoughts of tasting that fresh-baked bread). It really makes me think – about modern life, about getting too busy with the weight of it; with all the responsibilities on our shoulders – whether to children, or the mortgage, or trying to save the planet – and how the practice simple pleasures is lost. And aging…all this is what I felt, reading your gorgeous poem.
I know that “home” as well as that feeling of the loss of time. A wonderful poem Margie that made me reflect and remember. Thank you.