Fresh Bread|نان تازه

and that is the crust—crux—of the matter! 😀

A Voice from Iran

Sally was telling a friend;

That darned day, I was cooking, and the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there was my father. He bought some fresh bread for me.


He always bought fresh bread for us and, on his way home, dropped it off. My father believed the fresh bread has a better taste. He, all the time, just handed me the bread and left. He never came inside, never. My mother was with him at that time.


When my husband heard their voices, he ran towards the door to say hi, he truly loved my parents.

That day my husband insisted my parents come inside and have dinner with us. I didn’t like my husband’s idea. I was tired, the house was a mess, and I just got back from work.


My parents came inside, and my husband ran to the kitchen to make some coffee for…

View original post 344 more words

This entry was posted in Uncategorized on by .

About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.