the cold November wind
from the warm kitchen
the windowsill is filled
with purple blooms of African violets,
pill bottles lined up in a row,
souvenir glass from a beach vacation,
and framed with homemade curtains
the air is full
of the aroma of coffee
and country music on the radio…
memories of my grandparents' kitchen
or maybe that of my parents...
possibly my own,
it all blends together
through generations
