Bread

fragile

She sat among the clutter

of a life time.

The table in the tiny corner

Took me back to her previous home

In a big house on Dublin’s South side.

Sitting in her cosy kitchen

With every utensil and kitchen ware a cook would need

Nick knacks too.

We sat at the table in the middle of that room

facing each other

We devoured her stew and the fresh loaf

Bought that morning while shopping

Not a crumb was left.

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