Leaving my luggage at the front door.
It smelled like pumpkin and molasses.
The dog’s in front of the oven,
And there’s flour on the floor
While a bowl, filled to the brim
Sits amidst the baking pans.
Mom’s there too
In her sweater and jeans,
Rolling out the dog treats
With her trusty wooden pin –
The same as always.
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