Mom's Firewood Pancakes (A Song to Mother's Memories)

Rajasir

In my kitchen, flavors roam free, a world of taste no lock nor key,

But oh how I miss the simple bliss, of firewood's flame and mom's pancake kiss,

Delicacies line my silver plate, each bite a story, each meal first-rate,

Yet nothing compares, not east or west, to mom's golden pancakes, those were the best.

Gourmet feasts, they come and go, chefs create with fancy show,

But in my heart, there's a gentle hiss, the sound of firewood, mom's pancakes I miss,

Sweet and soft, they'd dance on the tongue, reminding me of when I was young,

No recipe could ever twist, the taste of home, in morning's mist.

Fine dining in my grasp, a wide array to savor and clasp,

But mom's morning treat, oh what pure bliss, her love flipped in each pancake's crisp,

I could travel worlds, from shore to shore, but it's mom's firewood pancakes I adore,

In my heart, they top the list, those simple joys, I truly miss.