WARM BREAD

“You smell just like warm bread,” I said.

And she seemed hurt by my thought.

Of course, she hadn’t known my mother,

And how my love of her

Was defined by my love of fresh bread

Which my mom allowed me to eat

While it was still oven-warm.

Whenever she handed me that bread

I was wrapped in her love.

How do I explain to this woman

That I felt so wrapped in her love

That she smelled to me of warm bread?

#senseofsmell