deepundergroundpoetry.com

Brigadeiros

 

I rarely remember
the name
savouring this exquisite
taste and texture.
They cry home
for me,
my motherís delicacy;
traditional
chocolate truffles, or
fudge, or
brownie.
I have no idea,
I only know
It by one name
I rarely remember.

Tradition fills
this confection,
melts my heart,
feeds more than
cravings,
standing over stove
with my son
who flawlessly
stirs and boils
settles and rolls,
presents culture
in this piece
of perfection.
Here, I know
tradition.

And here I know
my motherís name
will be shared
with my grandchildren
one day
tasting these charms
enjoyed together
through generations

and like me, they may
rarely remember the name
Brigadeiros,
but in this future space
my mother, and her sweet love

will not be forgotten.
Written by ursa
Published
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