Apple Crumble


My daughter was about six.
That age of ceaseless question's.
Here it came the doozy.
The one I was waiting for,
Mommy, where did I come from.?

I should have been better prepared.
She had caught me off my guard.
Do I make this a biology lesson.
Full of penisses and vaginas.
Or does she deserve the hard truth.?
I rationalize the truth is always better.

You come from the purest
snows of the
Canadian rockies.
Endless Cold winter days
And nights.

where I ached for your father.
We made love on the bed
and kitchen table.
Underwear was  strewn
All about the house.

Burning in fires
that needed quenching.
Even when I was  making
apple crumble in the kitchen.

Her eyes looked quizzically at me .
demanding a better answer.

She said
Mom so babies come
from apple crumble?
I said yes honey
That's right.
From apple crumble