The pantry is the place to be
Full of all sort of culinary
Granny used to cook and bake
And from the pantry she would take
Making things that taste delight
My eyes wide open and shining bright
Victoria sponge and fresh baked bread
The smells go whizzing through my head
The pantry was an Aladdin’s cave
All the food stacked in its place
Vegetables form granddads plot
Fruits from the orchard there was a lot
Tins and packs of all dried goods
A drum of flour in the corner stood
The treats our granny she would hide
Deep in the pantry out of sight
Sunday lunch was the best
Around the farm house table in our Sunday best
The smell of home made food, it filled the room
Like some luscious sweet perfume
Before we start we say our grace
Then we’d sit and stuff our face
These memories are of the past
But our bonding it will always last
Chellaston
02 10 2009
Jim O'Donnell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pantry/
