Nostalgia

An air of nostalgia saunters in with a chill

and I stand rooted there.

As a wave passes inside me.

I give in to memories..

**
Ps. Old Recycled poetry time, exam time ie!

Mother's cakes

"Don't go around frowning", she said.

I wondered at times how they turned out so.
So perfect and moist.
Filled with tender love.
Oozing out in each bite.
My mother's cupcakes.

"Bake me something delicious.
Whip out the anger.
Create something beautiful," she'd say.

Today she lies in peace.
Watching from a place up above.
Remembrance hits me, as I whip the batter.
That's where the fluffiness comes in her cakes.
Now I know.
**

Image: Me ;)