Her warmth was bundled up with tales,
Her knowledge flowed on through the years,
The gentle heat, the milk and sweet,
The alchemy of cultured thought.
And in each bite, a crunch of salt,
The memories of mountain peaks.
From ninety generations formed:
A slight and sliver, ash and heart.
With such pride she gave her love,
With each remembered trick and tip.
On every drying shelf a tale,
Another history of grace.
She carried secrets to her grave.
She took off much, but left her soul.