In the kitchen, I craft love in my hands I simmer storylines of flavors and spices The character of the food develops in my pots and pans, and always ends on your tastebuds. The journey of sustenance is one I will always follow with a fire in my eyes Though I know the ending like I know what follows a breath. That may be written in stone, but the way that a person lights up when they take their first bite When tongue and tale meet Will always be a surprise Maybe heat gathers in the apples of their cheeks Or their eyes grow wide as a contented hum vibrates their chest Or maybe just a small smile pulls at the corners of their lips Mine changes from day to dish, but theirs is always the same. Content. Warm. If I am good for nothing else, I will craft a meal without a second thought And fill it to the brim with as much love as I can fit on a cutting board.