Lasagna (A Poem)

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Making lasagna reminds me of you.
Layers of pasta, cheese, sauce, memories
of filling my husband’s lunchbox with slices,
the biggest piece always promised to you.
You never told my grandmother, just hid the sandwich,
banana, chips in your desk for another day.
I reveled in our little secret and your thanks.
Now I arrange each layer and remember
and am thankful that goodbyes aren’t really the end.

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2 responses to “Lasagna (A Poem)

  • Anthony Lee Collins

    Lasagna and memories.

    Lasagna was always special when I was growing up. We (my entire family, all three of us) always made it together. We each were responsible for different ingredients, adding them layer by layer into the big pot. If we had a guest, they were drafted to help.

    It was kind of fun. I’m not sure why we made lasagna and only lasagna that way, but that’s one reason it was special.

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