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.