Into the oven, the bread is delicately placed.

The passionate duo:

flour lingering 

in his mustache and on her frail hands.

Aprons worn,

faded,

full of love. 

How messy 

yet beautiful 

It is to create something of their own. 

Watching their creation rise

solely indulging 

in the aroma and the satisfaction,

for they will not be able to taste it.

Ingredients put in so tenderly,

Years of experience.

Partners relaxed

knowing the taste and most importantly 

the feeling 

the warm, fluffy bread gave those proceeding them

will never be forgotten

and will allow them to bake, themselves. 

Until they’ve followed the cookbook embedded in their hearts,

and proclaim,

“This tastes exactly like my grandparents’ cooking.”