And we wanted not our hands sticky
In the summer of mangoes
she placed a few ones in our mouth each
to swish down to our belly
Those pieces of pilchards fried
Kept for each one aside
Knowing how much we all liked
To her children her pride
There were some specials and
some which turned with memories
We miss your cuisines dear
But we miss you more mummy
Written for
Friday Writings #177: Comfort Food
