I smell the aroma of my mother's cooking
no one can compare
she makes every dish her own
like magic in the air
every bite tastes like the first
which keeps you wanting more
I see the smile on her face
we are her joy and she is ours.
I hear my siblings argue
I hear my mother's laughter as she settles things
I see my father's glasses on the bridge of his nose
I hear the tapping of his keyboard as he gets to work
I feel the warmth of the hugs we all shared
I hear the stories we told to stay up late
I hear the footsteps of my mother coming upstairs
I see my siblings rushing to get to bed
I replay the memories we made in our old home.
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