How I once loved the simmer of pancake
morning waffles slippery with syrup,
a lifetime of lunches
snacking on whole wheat with ham, cheese, turkey
sinking into mayo and milk.
I was a bread making expert
tiny loaves of love
offered across
powered with raisins, nuts, grains
warm, just freshly brought from oven
salty butter drip from
lip to chin
I prided myself on the art of pastry
experimented with finesse and pleasure.
lost often in the rise of dough
kneading with strong and nimble hands
the rush of rise
the warmth of baking.

taste of toast
mixed with sunrise
slipping along the sheets

now gluten intolerant
there is no more bread or pasta, no pancakes
I dare not even savor one morsel
for the hunger rages within
and would devour me.


  1. Maybe it is rebellion, or anger, or possibly even a little bit of denial I face when it comes to “cant have’s or have too’s.” I get very tired of my medical issues setting my rules of comfort and enjoyment…. I play the pretent card quite often…

    When I am at my witts end, I Pretend to have control of the situation. I know deep down I have no control, but for a short while I get to obtain a small grip and control my life in fasion I see fit….. ” You can’t tell me what to do!” appears to be my main frame of mind durring these onsets……..hmmm maybe it comes from my mothers side of the family……

  2. I walk in your shoes every day, but diabetes is a mean landlord taking away the “yum” out of food and the “eat” out of restaurant. A piece of candy sits deliciously looking at a piece of pie, smiling at corner of a cake, and giving me the “poison man” card. Oh, my. We walk in our own shoes, but there are others who know how those shoes hurt.

  3. That poem describes me perfectly. I was just like that. Bought special high gluten wheat berries and ground into flour myself. But no more. No baking bread, not even for hubby or children when they come for a visit.

  4. I can SMELL the pancakes, the bread in this piece – beautiful! It’s as if we have to let go of life one piece of food, one piece of health, one loved one at a time. ***mcb***

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