When it rains I bake
A sponge cake.
To relish with
A hot cup of tea.

Writer
When it rains I bake
A sponge cake.
To relish with
A hot cup of tea.

Not a soul to be seen
On the deserted streets,
Lost are all hopes and dreams.
All of a sudden from nowhere,
A mockingjay sings a melody
Of Katniss Everdeen.

At 5:00 AM, the warm yellow lights turn on every day in the back of the bakery.
Marie gets busy with all the work that lays ahead of her in the day. She prepares herself, dusts her hands with flour and begins to knead the dough. She kneads the dough long and gently though.
There is flour on her apron, hands, and strands of hair that fall often on her face. From the pantry to the kitchen, she runs around gathering ingredients.
In a large bowl, she sieves the dry ingredients into the flour. In another bowl, she whisks the wet ingredients. She works with the intensity of a controlled hurricane.
Now and then, she checks on her pastry and bread dough. Kneading them long and gently though.
She works on the bread on one side while simultaneously working on a fluffy chocolate mousse.
She whisks warm whipping cream with cacao powder in a bowl. In another, she mixes milk, sugar, and cornflour. Folding in the batter smoothly until it all comes together.
She pours this mixture into a saucepan and turns on the flame. She adds chunks of dark chocolate into the concoction and starts stirring till it turns into a mini brown whirlpool in the pan.
She stirs and stirs until it becomes delectably dark and gooey. She pours this into a baking tray for cooling. She drizzles some cocoa powder on the chocolate mousse just before sliding the tray into the refrigerator.
She dusts her apron briefly and goes back to kneading a new dough again.
Like this, Marie passionately bakes away every single day. Tirelessly, making wonderful pastries in her French patisserie.

Photo by Davide Baraldi on Pexels.com
Drowsy eyes
Read the same lines
Over and over.
Yesterday, he called me in my dreams
Strolling in the dark green meadows
I turned around to look at him
Then walked away.
Next thing I know,
He is by my side
Giggling and questioning me with his eyes.
So I stop and ask, “Who are you?”
To which he replied “Your daemon.”
The day was long and cold.
Not a soul to whisper a word or two.
“Oh how long will this go on?”
She sighed and complained
While absently stirring her pot of porridge.
A troubled mind
Became a cause of my misery
A hurtful racist remark
Made me doubt the sanity of humanity.
It doesn’t matter where you are from
We all have faults of our own.
Lend a helping hand when you can
There’s no point kicking someone into a hole.
When spring comes,
Nights are shorter
Days are longer and warmer.
When spring comes,
It promises life and growth
Along with new hopes.
When spring comes,
Birds chirp, bees buzz
Trees bloom with fresh buds.
The seasons have changed
When spring comes
There’s always merriment
& freshness in the air.

A mighty growl
From the majestic beast
Sent the hyenas
Scurrying into the hills.
