A taste of Amma

In the quiet corners of my heart,

Her laughter lingers, though we’re apart.

Three years have passed since she said goodbye,

Yet her love still whispers, a soft, gentle sigh.


Her kitchen, a haven where magic would brew,

The scent of spices, a warm, tender hue.

Each meal a story, each flavor a song,

In every bite, I felt I belonged.


Her hands, like artists, would dance with the flame,

Transforming raw ingredients, never the same.

From fragrant biryanis to sweet, creamy treats,

In every dish, her essence repeats.


Oh, how I long for that familiar embrace,

The warmth of her smile, the light in her grace.

In memories shared over steaming hot plates,

I find her again, as my heart resonates.


So here I sit, with a plate filled with love,

A taste of her legacy, sent from above.

Though she’s not here, her spirit remains,

In every delicious, nostalgic refrain.


With every meal, I carry her near,

In the flavors of home, I hold her dear.

For Amma’s cooking was never just food,

It was love, it was life, it was all that is good.


Daya Nair🫶🫰

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