Whispers Of The Heart

Table of Grace

A bite here, a nibble there,
A crunch of seaweed, a little bun,
Served only by a woman's hand,
With the same affection
My mother once showed me,
Years ago, before I understood
The love and challenges
She foresaw in my path.

Now, I lay the table
For my cherished women,
Aware of all we've endured together.
The last to eat,
The first to give,
Cooking for those she holds dear,
Never sure when her own favorite dish
Will grace her plate.

But now, I see,
After all these years,
I will infuse all my dishes with love,
For these wonderful women,
Enduring trials,
Everyday's life challenges

Each meal a testament to the bonds we share,
A feast not just of food, but of hearts intertwined.
We celebrate not just the flavors,
But the silent stories each dish carries,
The laughter, the tears, woven into our feasts.

Together, we nourish more than bodies—
We sustain souls, we honor memories,
Culinary rituals that bind us tighter,
A sisterhood fortified by each shared plate,
Through seasons of joy and shadows of trials.

So here's to the lovely ladies,
Their resilience, their tender care,
Here's to the hands that cook, the hearts that serve,
May this table always be a place of return,
A circle of warmth, a toast to enduring grace.