In a cup once full, the steam would rise, With fragrant dreams of times now past, Where broth was plenty, a warm disguise, A hug in each spoon, memories to last. Now waters shallow, flavors less bold, Echo the stories of simpler days told, Yet in each sip, a gentle grace, Remembrance lingers in savory trace. And though the broth may not overflow, The heart finds warmth in what love bestows, For in scant measure, there's still a glint, Of comfort found in every hint.