In a quaint little town where the sun softly bled, I, Maria, stand in my bakery, yet I can’t afford bread. The ovens are warm, and the flour is fine, But the weight of the world makes the dough hard to bind. The scent of fresh loaves wafts through the air, Yet my pockets are empty, my heart filled with care. I knead, and I shape, with a smile on my face, But the hunger inside me knows no embrace. The shelves are adorned with pastries and pies, But the hunger I feel is a truth I can’t disguise. I watch as they come, with their coins in their hands, While I count every crumb, as if grains were my plans. The children come laughing, their faces aglow, With dreams of sweet treats, and the warmth of the dough. I serve them with joy, though my heart feels the weight, Of a life that’s a feast, yet I’m left with the plate. I barter with hope, trading smiles for a crust, In a world where the rich seem to thrive on their lust. Yet here in my bakery, I craft with my soul, Th...
Welcome to my blog, Here, you’ll find a collection of reflections that capture the essence of my experiences, as well as the stories and emotions of those around me. My writing is not solely a mirror of my own life; rather, it is a lens through which I observe the world drawing inspiration from the people I encounter, the moments I witness, and the events that shape my collective existence.