Classic Italian

Golden crust hums.

Soft heart yields slow.

A rustic Italian song—Flour dances, time sings.

Bread that warms hands.

Flour, strong and true. Water, pure flow. Salt, a quiet spark. Yeast, life’s breath. Olive oil, a golden touch.

Wheat whispers here. Gluten weaves the soul. Trace of oil’s echo.

Tear warm, with oil.Crust cracks loud.Wrap in cloth, breathe—Toast to revive, if still.

Born in Italy’s fields.

Shaped by old hands.

A recipe of earth—

Carried to our hearth.

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