Before the town has opened eyes, A light shines down our street. Behind the bakery’s window rise The smells of something sweet.
The baker lifts a tray of rolls; Warm flour dusts her sleeve. She checks the timer, wipes the bowls, Then folds the dough with care.
A bicycle leans by the wall; The first bus hums nearby. She turns the sign towards us all As morning fills the sky.
I buy a roll, still warm to hold, And tuck it in my hand. The street wakes slowly from the cold; Her working day is planned.