The Quest for the Perfect Recipe

In a humble kitchen, warm and bright,
A baker stirs through day and night.
With flour dusted on her hands,
She seeks a recipe to understand.

The first ingredient, sweet and pure,
Is love, a flavor to endure.
A sprinkle of affection’s grace,
A touch of kindness in every space.

Next, she adds a dash of hope,
A rising yeast, the strength to cope.
It swells within, it fills the air,
A promise that life’s fair to share.

A pinch of laughter, light and free,
Like sugar dancing through the sea,
Of memories sweet, of joy untold,
Where happiness is softly sold.

But sorrow’s salt, both sharp and deep,
Must blend within, for joy to keep.
The baker stirs with careful care,
For without it, none would dare.

She folds in faith, a sturdy thread,
That binds the heart, that lifts the head.
It melds with all, both dark and light,
Guiding the soul through stormy night.

She adds resilience, firm and strong,
A cinnamon twist, where we belong.
Through failure, she finds a better rise,
And strength beneath the tender skies.

A spoonful of patience, slow and sure,
Stirs through the batter, rich and pure.
For in the wait, the magic’s made,
In the quiet moments, joy is laid.

At last, the baker, eyes aglow,
Sees the recipe that’s hers to know.
It’s not one dish, nor one delight,
But a blend of moments, day and night.

For happiness, she’s come to see,
Is never fixed, but wild and free.
A quest not for the perfect taste,
But a journey that none can replace.

- Khushi Kaul