In the early morn, when dawn’s light is faint,
The scent of yeast, a gentle saint,
Rises to greet the waking day,
In warm embrace, it finds its way.

Crusts that crackle with golden hue,
A chorus of crunch, both old and new,
Soft crumbs inside, a tender heart,
From baker’s hands, a work of art.

In homes and hearths, stories are told,
Of loaves that nourish, strong and bold,
In every bite, a memory stored,
A humble gift, forever adored.

Through seasons’ change, bread remains,
A constant amidst life’s joys and pains,
With every loaf, a promise kept,
In its comfort, dreams are swept.