This Place of Comfort

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This Place of Comfort

 

Buzz, whir, sizzle, hiss.

The sounds of this place fill my senses with bliss.

Colors, tastes, textures, and smells.

This place of art is where my true soul dwells.

 

Stir, blend, measure, slice.

No other place will ever suffice.

Chop, mince, julienne, and grate.

All my emotions expressed on a plate.

 

Ever since I was the age of three

I had my life planned ahead of me,

I decided to be a pastry chef,

To be in this place of serenity.

 

This place I speak of is oh so sacred,

A shrine, you may call it that.

Once I cross its divine threshold,

All other worries go flat.

 

This place is a place of freedom,

No concern, no worry, no fear.

The place where anything goes

can be nowhere else but here.

 

"What is this place?" you may ask,

Oh don't worry, I'll tell you soon.

I'll give you a hint, if you must.

Its drawers contain forks and spoons.

 

I am in my forte when in this place,

No words can ever describe.

The emotions I feel when I walk through its gates,

The thrill I have inside.

 

When times are rough, my esteem is down

And when I don't know where to go,

I find myself in this magical place,

This secondary home.

 

Yes, it's the kitchen,

I said it, it is revealed.

When I am baking in the kitchen,

All my wounds can be healed.

 

When I work my magic in the kitchen,

I am as radiant as can be.

I can dare to be different;

I can dare to be me. 

 

~ Rachel Sherriffe

 

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