I cannot get a bite on my title, so I will try again....

Out in the kitchen my mother would brew;
Smells of cinnamon, brown sugar and musty old fruit
I remember those times very, very well
as I hated the scents, and I hated those smells.

I never told mom how much I disliked
the scents of her canned presentations
I only let on that I always liked
to be with her while she created.

To this day I get gifts of her Marmalade delights,
I enjoy them with tremendous pleasure
for one day will come a time of great strife
when my mom will no longer make Orange treasures.

Title: Traffic Jam

Please someone play.....

Namaste...it's universal  [ =