Learning to Cook

I stood at the stove, my fingers on fire,

burnt edges of dreams in the oil's black mire.

Onions sputtered, the heat rose like doubt,

each sizzle a reminder, this is what life's about.

Smoke curled like a question mark, dark and unsure,

my heart was a novice, longing for more.

With a knife and a pan, I faced the unknown,

taking the plunge into flavors my own.