Flour sprinkled all over the platform,
Along with little globs of butter,
A spatula left neglected by the sink,
And used utensils staring at me.
My apron is covered with chocolate,
And parts of my face is covered with flour,
Oh what a mess!
Finally I hear the beep of the oven,
And as I rush towards it,
I fall on my face,
The fall thwarts me from reaching the oven,
But I pick myself up,
And as I start to reconcile to my fate,
I am forced to smile,
When I draw out a batch of perfectly baked cookies.