I have learned to savor certain memories…
That scent of cinnamon mixing in with bread dough…
Together baking in an oven…
As a child my Mother baked bread and cinnamon rolls…
Those scents drifting throughout the house…
In my teens,I worked on boats over the summer…
The aroma of fresh brewing coffee permeated the galley…
My first home as an adult…
A stone’s throw from a bakery…
Around 4am the scent of bread baking…
Weekend morning as my children grew…
Fresh bread, or cinnamon rolls baking in the oven..
Was their wakeup call…
This morning…
With cup in hand, sipping on black coffee…
While the grandkids receive their wakeup call…
Fresh cinnamon rolls drowning in a creamy sugar coating…
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A Poet's Haven 
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