Celery, carrots, chicken with stock
cooked in a pan, served up pipping hot!
Throw in some homemade dumplings
all fluffy and white like clouds.
On the side a spoonful of buttered corn
to feed my hungry crowd.
I always use my Mothers recipes
she left them to me with her old cook book.
She would write them down on pieces of paper
some fantastic goodies made up, that she would cook.
Add a pinch of this, and a pinch of that
I never seem to lose my place.
I feel her standing next to me
helping me make her German chocolate cake.
I will add some of my own creations
to the book my Mother left.
And later pass it on to my daughter
so chicken and dumplings her family too might get.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem