Your Best Friend's Kitchen

Her kitchen hums softly, a warmth in the air,

as garlic sizzles, and I linger, aware.

Each spoonful of laughter stirs up the past,

where summers spent flour-dusted seem to last.

The light dances low, on counters of wood,

each scratch tells a story of meals that felt good.

Elbow-deep in dough, we’d laugh and we'd play,

losing ourselves in the joy of the day.

A wooden spoon resting, still dusted with flour,

holds the scent of friendship, a comforting power.

In this little haven, our worlds softly blend,

reminders of love, the heart of a friend.