I roll the dough between my hands

The crumbs drop off into the pan.

I was drawn to a kitchen from long ago

My Scottish Grandma , I remember so.

Hands with a dish towel she rang ,

I remember how often she sang.

Amazing Grace, she chorused the home.

Scottish aired from her among the scones.

The whirl of the smell drifted toward me.

I in my memory can still see .

©️CMM 2023

• Generations grandma literature Love Memories Poetry scones Seasons Time