Sunday lunch

The hum of the halogen oven

roasting Sunday’s lunch

could lull me to sleep

with the incessant ticking,

tiny gale of air and its warmth.

The golden light flooding

the kitchen intermittently;

reaching for me

with tender rays of light,

hoping to draw me closer

and cradle me in thoughts

of every Sunday I have

ever lived, to reassure me

they are quieter now,

slower now, in order

to keep me safe.

 


 

Photograph & poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally

3 thoughts on “Sunday lunch

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