Cinnamon Memories

Warm hands cover mine

And guide me in the right direction

Sunlight streams in through the window

Into the dusted-white room

Filled with the sweet smell of cinnamon

And I can’t believe I did that!

I rush around the room

and stutter through the inked words

As rain pounds against the window

Into the room cluttered with discarded attempts,

Choked with the smell of burnt cinnamon

…And I can’t believe I did that…

My face tinges pink as the tray slides out

Into the spotless kitchen

They look lumpy and more yellow than golden.

They’re too sweet and too crunchy

And they’re perfect

And I can’t believe I did that.

These are perfect circles glazed with sugar

They hint at almonds and coconuts

They’re different

But they’re amazing

And they’re mine

And I can’t believe I did that.

I want to be surrounded by the clatter of pots,

The smell of the oven, the colors of ingredients

And have my head filled with the recipes I've learned over the years

That I give back each and every day

And remember all those times I've failed and succeeded and tried

And got to where I am and think:

'I can’t believe I did that'