In the quiet of the kitchen,
where flavours rise and fall,
I found a spark of mischief—
to let recipes
waltz with verse.
A whisk became a quill,
a pan the poet’s stage;
butter, herbs, and laughter
blending gently
line by line.
So here begins the feast,
where dishes dance in rhyme—
a little fun,
a little art,
and every plate a poem.
Poetry of Life 
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