Bread Poem by William Kofoed

Bread



As I bake
Often I wonder
How it was
The first time
Perhaps someone
Last of their flour
Was wet
And bad
Bubbling and smelling bad
But all they had
Placed it on a rock
Hot by their fire
Watched it grow
Watched it brown
Picked it up
Took a bite
Of the first
Bread

Friday, April 12, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
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