a descent into poetry insanity |
| give us this day a fresh baked loaf, with crisp crust and insides as squishy and perforated as a sponge so that as it is baked, the smell wafts from the oven, gathering all from the edges of the house, and when it is broken, it steams gently, and butter cools it just enough to eat as finger tips grow almost too warm, and as we eat it, we bless the cook, who already plans tomorrow's loaf. line count: 17 prompt: bread |