Unfinished Recipes

The shelf in the kitchen, cracked and worn,

full of spices that sit, long expired,

a jar of cumin, dust like an unspoken promise,

each label curling at the edges, whispers of meals,

dinners unmade, lost between good intentions,

forgotten as the fridge hums its low lament.

I sift through the clutter, memories arise,

the scent of garlic, onions sizzling,

a warm kitchen filled with laughter,

now echoes of silence gather like old friends,

time slips through my fingers like fine sand,

recipes stacked like books unread,

a list of flavors that never danced upon my tongue.