Uncomplicated
she stood there, lost
clouded
pounding dough smooth
with small hands,
an uncomplicated task;
her mind, reaching through veils
trying to grasp moments.
but thought was fleeting,
and memory seemed to exist
only in the mundane.
the only image changing
was the one in the window
in front of her;
as she placed bread in a hot oven
and hoped the scent alone
would call all those
she'd somehow forgotten
home...
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