Happy Memory

I finger the fabric
of that apron all worn.
A patch was placed here
where it was torn.

Made out of an old feed sack
material so faded with years.
I can see it plain as day
Even through my tears.

That warm winter kitchen
where she cooked up her bread.
The smell I still can't describe,
and a recipe card left unread.

As I lift up the apron
and take in the sweet smell
All those memories return
The memory of her death as well.

This apron is such a reminder
of happy times long gone.
But in my heart her love
lives on and on and on.

nfd♥