The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 483 ~ #Poetry

Let the north wind point its ice-cold finger at me
I will go with the flow
My tender loving family wait at the end of the road
Home, where we feed on mother’s mince pies
No fancy frill, honest fare at mother’s table
Something to give our grateful gratitude for
The one silver lining that never tarnishes…

© anita dawes 2020


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Responses

  1. purplepeninportland Avatar

    A lot to be said of silver linings. Lovely.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. D. Wallace Peach Avatar

    How sweet, Anita. And to someone who’s never had an English mince pie, nothing ordinary about the mother’s fare. It sounds wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. jenanita01 Avatar

      You have never had an English mincepie! I shal share the first batch very soon…

      Liked by 1 person

      1. D. Wallace Peach Avatar

        I haven’t. Isn’t that odd. We have mincemeat pies, but I can’t imagine that they’re the same as the originals. :-)

        Liked by 1 person

        1. jenanita01 Avatar

          We are talking fruit and spices?

          Liked by 1 person

          1. D. Wallace Peach Avatar

            Yeah, I think that’s what it is here too. The “meat” I think is chopped nuts. I’ll have to look it up. Clearly I’m guessing here. Lol

            Liked by 1 person

            1. jenanita01 Avatar

              I have never understood why it is called mincemeat. It is so misleading…

              Liked by 1 person

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