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My Mother's Cooking
I was raised to love my mother's cooking
 I savored every bite.
 I surrendered to the smell of it
 I marveled at the sight.
 
 For years I ate my mother's cooking
 I found myself content.
 For years I read her recipes
 I asked not what they meant.
 
 Then one day I went out to eat
 Yes, I went out to dine.
 I did not know these recipes
 I found the food was fine.
 
 One day my mother cooked for me
 I did not like the taste.
 I would not eat my mother's meal
 And the pot was gone to waste.

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