Salt and Cinnamon

 

Salt and Cinnamon

“Bena!  Salt and cinmon!”
His usual, unusual request.

He would sprinkle on a dish,
And lick it happily, lickity-split.
Granny smiled and gave consent,
They both were cozy and content.

When he was ten, to sooth himself,
He asked again for cinnamon salt.

The time escaped in rapid pace,
He gets a call in foreign place.
“Your granny has been very ill,
She has no more  survival will.”

In silent night he comes to tend,
He holds her softer, smaller hand.

The boy in him with misty eyes,
Whispers gently, emotions rise,
“Don’t go, Bena! Don’t yet sleep,
Give me salt and cinmon please.”

———-

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