Seasons Greetings

Hello Poetry Lovers

I guess it’s time to get seasonal and still keep my obsession with food. However, this particular food we will all be obsessed about.

Yes, a lovely poem from Trisha Broomfield about those traditional mince pies and the nostalgia and memories they evoke. Rosy yet painful at times.

Lovely detailed poem, Trisha, thank you so much. Do read on;

Mince Pie Time

I crumb butter into flour

the mixing bowl your old one

creamy patterned like an Aran sweater

elbows up, the kitchen counter too tall,

suddenly I am four again

crumbing Trex into Homepride

your own mother’s mixing bowl

elbows up, feet on a stool

the kitchen table too tall,

breadcrumbs of nearly shortcrust appear

and I don’t know how,

add an egg, cold water, just a touch.

It’s mince pie time again

but because I am four once more

I reach for the spoon

dollop red jam into cups of pale pastry.

© Trisha Broomfield 2021

Wasn’t that such a moving journey? Who didn’t get a lump in their throat, remembering their own mother’s baking these timeless things? With my own Mum it was more sausage rolls and when Christmas Eve comes round, I can still smell that baking aroma. Sigh!

Thanks so much for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be real soon with another seasonal piece

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