Left Over
I found a piece of mom's pie,
frozen since Christmas.
I observed it as a holy relic,
ashamed by the disregard
with which I had slipped it
into a ziplock bag.
I must have tipped the freezer door
closed with an elbow
and set about my lists as if
there would always be more.
How quickly I had forgotten it,
made flat in the weight
of these days.
I ate the remains with a sterling fork
but the butterscotch tasted like peas.
– Teresa Kiplinger
What a sweet poem. So very touching. I know that taste of frozen food quite well.
Love you poetry and metal work… you are so talented! This particular poem is so raw and beautiful, it touched me to my core! xox
This hits me right in the gut.
Reading this introspective poem early this morning when all is calm and quiet gives me a glimpse inside your head and where you are at when designing your beautiful pieces.
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