A poem
dusty pages
unblemished spines
i sit untouched
peering out
from the shadowed shelf
a lingering presence
recipes frozen
in printed text
never brought to life
sauces unsimmered
doughs unrisen,
flavours unmated
my culinary wisdom
an unopened vault
trapped between covers
awaiting the day when
curious hands set me free
to breathe aromas
into hungry kitchens
and grace eager plates
until then i watch
observe the choreography
of the seldom-opened
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