The Baker

A young girl had stopped 
in my shop earlier, asking for 
some bread pudding and cakes. 

I told her that I did not have cakes, 
and she simply refused to talk to me. 
I offered her rice swells for half price 
instead, but she threw a fit and walked 
out the door, threatening to break my 
windows, and I cursed at her. 
She hissed back through the glass 
windows and pounded one with her fist, 
but not enough to break it, still assuring 
me that she would, one day, break my 
windows, by the braided ribbon in her hair.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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