Saturday, October 24, 2015

My Mothers Fruit Cake - Poetry

I followed it to the letter,
All the contents placed in line,
One by one I entered them,
Mixing took some time.

I set the oven to 180,
Like my mother said,
The time it passed so quickly,
My cakes looked flat and dead.

It ain’t what you do it’s the way that you do it,
Came mothers voice above,
Start again my darling,
Start this time filled with love

Author Steve Boddey

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