Saturday was a perfect day, <br /> To make a loaf of bread. <br /> Never did I imagine, <br /> I was going over my head. <br /> The yeast was added, <br /> To the flour mix with flare, <br /> A cheesecloth placed all over, <br /> It didn't dare have cold air. <br /> The loaf was placed in the oven. <br /> It baked a wood-tan brown. <br /> At dinner everyone salivated, <br /> The most wonderful smell around. <br /> The knife began at the crust, <br /> Then quickly bent in half. <br /> Those seated at the table, <br /> Broke into a hearty laugh. <br /> Into the trash this loaf went, <br /> To continue life at the fill. <br /> I often wonder if it is, <br /> Intact out there still?<br /><br />Shirley Waugh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fresh-bread/
