Jam Dreaming

 I miss jam, I truly do,

Though there are jars (and not a few),

In every grocery store that you

Would ever chance to wander through.

Most with lids that you unscrew

And lined up in a great, long queue,

In colours red (to shades of blue),

Made with fruit (and veggies, too),

And even flowers someone grew,

So, why this ‘I miss jam’ ado?

Do I those ‘store-bought’ jams eschew?

I’m sure they’re tasty, fresh as dew,

And sugar-sweet and good for you,

But just read on, I’ll leave a clue,

So you won’t think that I’m cuckoo…

My Mom made jams from things she grew,

I ate them all, I loved them, too,

So why do I miss jams to chew?

Did Mom’s the others all outdo?

Were hers the famous 'jam break-through'?

So much so, I cry 'boo-hoo',

It’s really Mom I’m missing. True! 

Each month, our Poetry Group receives a challenge: Make poetry--on a theme.

And we do.

This we do for fun!

Go and see what my friends have created!

BakingIn A Tornado 

Messymimi’sMeanderings