Blackened by heat and the love of my mom's hand,
Nothing cooked better than her black frying pan.
They come in all sizes there's one that will fit you,
They even have lids for different cooking you do.
Dutch ovens, bean kettles and frying pans,
Have produced great meals in the right hands.
Yet some that use them without taking their time,
Will never cook food like that mother of mine.
Her pork chops she made were a heaven's delight,
I snuck in the fridge and ate cold ones at night.
In the morning angrily she'd say, "Boom, what did you do?
You ate all my cold pork chops! You know I love them too!"
Then she would smile with her eyes and say, "Let's don't fight,
I'll just fry some more in the skillet tonight".
Now my mother's in a nursing home and eighty-six years old,
Eating bland food as her skillet lies cold.
