The Comfort of Home

In her kitchen, chaos finds its own beat,

the scent of garlic simmering, savory, sweet.

We laugh over pots as the water will boil,

holding each other with warmth in the toil.

Wooden spoons stirring the flavors, a dance,

where memories linger and hopes find their chance.

Her apron’s a cape, we are heroes tonight,

as the moon through the window spills soft silver light.