Mother's Kitchen

I love my mother's kitchen;
It's always bright and gay,
With flowers on the windowsill
To brighten up the day.

The kettle gaily singing,
The shining kitchen floor,
The smell of spice and homemade bread
When you open up the door.

I love my mother's kitchen,
For the family gathers there;
The laughter and the joy we share
Are way beyond compare.

The other rooms in our old house
Hold comfort, peace, and rest;
But my mother's homey kitchen
Is the room we all love best.

by: Mildred L. Jarrell