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 fallĀ  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.