Time lost within,
Baked layers of echoes,
Sweet notes of air, thickening,
Allowing dew to whisper secrets
As buns rise in the incandescent glow.
Do you smell the vertices of dreams
Manipulated by the fingers of fate,
As yeasts dance upon the pulse of dimensions,
Merging seasons of solace and chaos?
Crusts crack, an innate cry,
What texture best encapsulates wisdom
Yet, you knead against the fears,
Grappling with ghosts of unsaid loves,
In the strange silence of a crowded room.