longing

I yearn for a decade
to compose, then hone,
reading out loud
until words
snap into shape—
this cannot be hurried,
and has its own flow

like assembling flour
eggs, sugar, and salt
to bake a sweet torte—
add extracts
vanilla and almond
texture still needed
slivered almonds on top

slip in the oven
transmuted by heat,
it forms into itself
then, when pulled out,
twenty minutes to rest
mysterious, what happens,
now it’s ready to savor

the torte, just an hour
a book, years and years
endless attention required

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.