In My Tiny Kitchen

I scoop beans
from a canister
rescued by my mother
from a junk store
not long before her death
in 1985.
Its lid had not survived
but my mother’s vision
put my father’s skill to work.
I miss her more than I can say.
The coffee that I make
in my tiny kitchen
tastes like home.

©  poem & photo 2024 M. Corinne Corley, The Missouri Mugwump™