Father’s bread

Fed me well.

I grew up on the stuff,

It taught my tongue 

How good food tastes

Gave my belly an appreciation 

For wholeness 

And sustained me in my youth. 

So much of what I am today

Is only possible because of it. 

Coming home is more than seeing

Familiar places 

And missing old faces

Or re-living memories 

But a conscious remembrance 

Of the goodness  of home

That’s so easily taken for granted.

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