The muffled noise of the oven
Rings through the door to her house,
The smell of cookies, edible love,
Meanders to find me.
A frail woman aged through experience,
Her gray hair and wrinkled skin
Stood no chance against her mind
In a race of time.
She stands at the counter
Placing cookies on a plate,
Softly humming Amazing Grace
As she covers them with a cloth.
Her garden, a daily project
In her muted yellow sunhat
Vibrant and full of life
As she wants to feel.
But Winter is coming,
Bringing about an end.