POEM: Childhood Salt

On childhood and transience

For breakfast I ate tomatoes,

Fried and served,

On half a bagel.

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My mother cooked me the same thing when I was a child. I was fussy

And hated tomatoes

But I liked the way she made them,

Topped with salt.

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I topped mine with salt this morning.

It tasted different 

Of course it did

That was the salt from my childhood 

Nothing tastes the same as it did back then.

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Back then, my mother and I 

Still spoke kind words to one another.

Back then, I ate her food and hungered for more. 

I loved 

The salt of it all.

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I finished my tomatoes this morning, 

And my partner asked me,

Was it good? 

He asked me.

Was it enough?

Yes, it was good, I replied.

Yes, it was enough.

But it did not have my childhood salt.

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