Salt and Cinnamon

Salt and Cinnamon

“Bena! Salt and cinmon!”

His usual, unusual request.

Granny smiled and gave consent,

They both were cozy and content.

She would sprinkle on a dish,

Happily he would lick it lickity-split.

When he was ten, to sooth his jolt,

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.”