Breadwork.

I have been doing it for years,

Making our bread.

Never a chore,

An enjoyment comes with the making.

So many emotions can be found

As I work through the process.

All the ingredients mixed together,

Combined in a bowl.

Until the dough is formed with ease.

I knead the dough,

And any frustrations

Are taken from me,.

As the power of kneading

Releases them from my mind

At last it is ready

And love is then mixed in.

Into the loaf tins the dough is placed,

The bread rises until ready to bake,

Into the oven they go

And cooked until they are gloriously brown,

Taken out and left to cool.

There is nothing quite like

The taste of fresh home-made bread.

Except that this time

Something went wrong;

They did not rise!

I had forgotten the yeast,

But I cooked them anyway,

And all I had were bricks

That could have built a house

That would last forever.