The jam I gave her yesterday
Is still good jam today,
But not so good alas it seems
For her to want to stay.
Perhaps she\'s after marmalade
Or butter all alone.
Perhaps she\'s tired of my toast,
And wants to try a scone.
She\'s found another table
And has her breakfast there,
Perhaps with finer china
And nicer tableware,
But she will never greet her day
with what makes house a home,
Sitting there across from me;
A daughter and a son.
Together we go gather
What our garden serves;
Berries for our larder
To make our own preserves.