Bakers

In the ill-lit room singed with ovens’ heat Swift hands deftly turn wheat balls sweet The air exudes a smell of pulpy soft taste Blended with the odd fragrance of sweat! Here reigns under the tin shed eternal night As if by some design is forbidden daylight Roll out confectionaries crisp and light To fill the mouths with salivary delight! Bread, cake, cookie and cherry bun Kneading them in the heat is no fun The bakers’ faces glow warm and red Faster they must go before they rest their head! The delicious stuff are relished by kids and grownups They savor the flavor with their hot morning cups Do they ever pause or give it a thought How those laboring bodies in the heat rot!