Of all the meals my mother ever made,
Her soups are the ones I remember most.
Tomato soup with Bacon Bits
And split-pea with ham, were my favorites.
Peculiar tastes for a little one,
I know, but mom made them just right.
Oh, I almost forgot some more:
Chicken and dumplings with homemade bread,
And then there was broccoli cheddar,
And the staples like beef stew.
There were also experiments,
Like sausage and beer soup with cornbread.
Regardless of the flavor, one thing was always certain,
Nothing brought warmth to my heart, like a bowl of mom’s soup.
by Cody McCullough
Cody McCullough Writes: 
Ah – this is lovely, and I completely agree with you, no soup will ever be like your mum’s! 😀
So, true….
now i want soup!
I’m glad you like this poem. Thanks for your comment.
I don’t even like soup, but those sound delicious!
I don’t eat, or drink, or slurp, or whatever it is that you do with soup that much anymore. From time to time, though, I still like a nice warm bowl of soup. Probably for the memories more than anything else.