NATURE Poem: Allium, by Victoria Francisco

From my blue checkered couch,
I smell florals so
pungent, I think of food.
The pom-pom flowers
smell of soup; in my
thoughts, I add garlic and
Dominican oregano.
I bring the mortar to my
mother, with the herbs
pulverized. I show her I am finished.
I see why artists paint
their childhood.
It is the goodness at the
end of the sickness.

Author: poetryfest

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