I love bread,

Warm bread,

Brown, malty, bread.

A crusty treasure chest,

A mouth-watering yeasty smell,

Enticing my knife to cut a thicker slice than I need,

Firm inside but springy to the touch,

I lift the temptation to my nose and inhale its fruity goodness.

I love bread,

Warm bread,

Long, white, French bread,

A contrast of hard and soft,

A delicate floury smell of promise,

Enticing my fingers to tear off a longer piece than I need,

It resists then pulls apart,

I lift the temptation to my nose and inhale its simple goodness.

I love bread,

Warm bread,

Specked, seed-filled, bread,

A parcel of surprises,

A rich smell of nutty delight,

Enticing my knife to slice more than I need,

Delicious gems nestle within,

I lift the temptation to my nose and inhale its diverse goodness.

I love bread,

Warm bread,

Round, floured, rolls of bread.

Pockets of hidden wonder,

A nose-tingling smell of toasted wheat,

Enticing my fingers to choose a larger one than I need,

Pulling it apart, revealing softness within,

I lift the temptation to my nose and inhale its fresh goodness.

I love bread,

But it doesn’t love me,

I bloat and ache and put on weight.

I love bread,

But it doesn’t love me,

I sigh and put it on my husband’s plate.