Aromas drifting through the house,
Calling our names to the door,
What is under the pot's glass lid?
Steam has the contents slyly hid.
Carrots, garlic, onion, beef,
Beans, peas and whole kernel corn,
Chili powder, salt, pepper, potatoes,
And of course beef broth and tomatoes.
Cooked it low and very slow,
Noses teased and mouths are watering,
Cold outside and Mama's soup in the pot,
We all line up we want it nice and hot.
Before the spoons dip into our bowls,
We pause to thank the Lord above,
For the food that's He's provided us,
And how much Mama clearly loves us.
Made me think of my mom and how she loved to cook and take care of her family. Wonderful poem.
This brings back such wonderful memories. Thanks
Love the soup pot bubbling on a chilly day and like you, the memories it brings.
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