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My mom made this soup
because she loved me
beige and orange
is how i remember it
and thick

i don't think that i helped her make it once
or if i did it was with reluctance and disrespect

i don't think i thanked her even once
or if i did it was flippant and not heartfelt

My god Mom, how i wish to help you make that soup,
how i thank you
how i want you to know that a lump grows in my throat
when i recall the time i wasted, sloughed off and should have been your friend.

i love you dearly,