DLEJ - Recipes She Sang

The way she spoke in measures, cups, and spoons.
I'm standing where she stood, the kitchen fading light,
These recipes she sang won't follow me home.
Her radio sits quiet on the sill; I remember mornings of flour on her hands.
She'd call me close and teach me to be still,
Now I'm the one who doesn't understand.
The air holds something I can't name; her voice lives in these walls.
I trace the years she gave before the silence falls.
I'm learning how to lose the songs she hummed at night,
The way she spoke in measures, cups, and spoons.
I'm standing where she stood, the kitchen fading light,