Water.
A lake upon a fire.
This lake lies undisturbed.
The still begins to boil.
A bubbling cauldron;
Now its time for pasta.
The swirling, knotted shapes,
Cascading into warmth.
Each piece is kissed by time,
Made soft by water’s hold.
A spoon dips in, for taste.
Perfect.
Drained.
Wisps of steam escaping,
Unfurling up with haste,
Eager to float away.
Fragrance wafts through senses,
Back from an older time.
Smells to thoughts to mem’ries:
Back in a house in Queens,
Another pot was boiled,
By Nana’s caring hands.
Moving with tasked purpose,
Sprinkling crystals of salt,
Soon.
Ready.
The tender butter melts,
Fusing in love and care.
The bowl is lowered down,
A smile on her face.
And suddenly I’m back.
And mom hands me the bowl.
As when I was a boy,
Delish’ and meaningful
Yum.
Daniel Lombardi is an aspiring graphic designer and guitarist from Morristown, NJ.