True

Sometimes then, with Mrs True, 

I baked rock cakes and Katie Krispies;
in the chatter of the old mobile units
I learnt how to use my thumbs to flick,
fingertips made crumbs. Eventually.

Her bright pink lips, would twitch,
when we spilt sugar, or dared
to burn the scones.

Now my niece, aged 9,
reaches up on tip toe,
stirs the uncooked chocolate cake;
the 7 year old
finds a footstool, waits
to learn about folding,
her hands impatient to try.

I think about cooking class
and how my mother would smile
when I brought home offerings.

I'm also wondering
if my lips twitch
like True.