(Written on 2022-11-23)

The oil is sizzling,
The white edge of the meat strips
Curling with a new brown shine.
Spirit of the flour spread out
Forming a white flower on the clean wood.
On its peddles the soft dough rest.
The foggy steam carrying the
Glorious smell gifted by the herbs
lounging on the fresh meat.
The meat drowning in the bubbling juice.

Dip. Her finger meets the thick source;
Lips curl as the taste buds sing.
Her eyes open and make contact with the
Other pair throwing pleading screams that hit
Her ears like a drum while existing only of
silence.

She swings around and sticks her Hand
Deep into the treasure chest
Between the pile of gold coins.
Out she pulls the two slices of bread
Add some in between and open the
Window, lowering to the child whose
Dirty shaky hands embrace the bread.
"Thank you."
"No need to thank me; it was nothing.
Only two slices of bread."