Today, while walking, I caught a whiff of

a family sitting ‘round a table,

of tender lamb, and roasted potato,

and gravy (the gravy!) by the ladle.

 

Transported to that time I watched:

cups of milk in dim evening light,

the rowdy banter of siblings

showing affection, sometimes spite.

 

I saw a father, who by working misses

the carefree time in which his children play.

Yet each night he still cares to ask them all

“what were your best and your worst things today?”

 

Alongside me, a mother watches,

Painful feet, a smile on her face.

A cup of tea, time to relax.

Grateful for each passing grace.

 

With dissipation of this reflection,

I realize I’ve arrived at my front door.

But with upturned lips, a glint in my eyes,

I think I should call my family more.