A soft aroma, a distant call,
The simmering pot, the spice's thrall.
A taste imagined, yet so near,
A craving sharp, insistent, clear.
Golden crusts and melting cheese,
Sweetened air from honeyed breeze.
Steaming bowls of fragrant rice,
Chocolate dark, or sugar twice.
My tongue demands, my mind obeys,
A feast of dreams in endless arrays.
The crack of bread, the sizzle's hum,
A symphony from where flavors come.
But cravings tease, they never stay,
A fleeting joy that slips away.
For every bite, another need,
An endless hunger we must feed.
Yet in this chase, a truth so sweet,
It’s not just food, but love we eat.
A shared dessert, a midnight fry,
The moments baked beneath the sky.
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