Opening up the old rubbed wooden box
I smelled time lingering from recipes of the past.
Shoved into in a hurried way of schedules and life
I pulled a hand full of recipes tattered and unorganized.
Sifting through in hopes to find a recipe to add to a menu
for a friend who is sitting in a hospital room with her mate.
A mate of 50 years now succumbed to life and cancer.
I look to see which one will do, and as I do, I see names.
These were the names of friends from a lifetime,
friends who shared a moment and then left a recipe to remember.
Friends much like the ones who are holding the hand of each other
waiting for life to say good-bye until another time.
I look at the names and realize the box has become a eulogy of friends,
the recipes reflecting their personality, their smiles, their life.
I feel as though it brought me to a sacred place, of time, sharing,
a holy place of scents and smells forgotten, but not their presence.
© Copyrighted: CMM 2015