The warmth of the oven, the smell of the pie,
The sound of the ticking clock passing by.
In grandma's kitchen, time stood still,
As memories were made, and love was instilled.
The cabinets were filled with pots and pans,
And jars of pickles, and homemade jams.
The counter was cluttered with flour and dough,
As grandma's hands moved with an effortless flow.
The stove was alive with bubbling pots,
As flavors and scents melded into one.
Grandma's recipes were her prized possession,
Her kitchen her haven, her culinary expression.
In the corner, a table set for two,
Where grandma and grandpa would sip on their brew.
Sharing stories of old and new,
Their love for each other shining through.
Grandma's kitchen was more than a room,
It was a place where love and memories bloomed.
As we look back on those days with a smile,
Grandma's kitchen will always be worth the while.
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