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When the morning hours have come My apron... Ironed, perfect, immaculate, steady Shielding me like a mother to her child Buckled down, it becomes me, it is my armor It sways as it brushes against me I walk, it is my wings Through old cracked floors, bled by spilled fat across its glistening surface Into the depths of frozen corridors and in between the fires of an angry stove "I do not scare", I say Through the doors... Into chaos, into the madness, into the service... That which has become my high. The journey, my passion Making sense of what I'm, Giving emotion to someone who doesn¹t even know me This very thin line I walk, between what is a very good and a very bad dish. From what fulfills and what torments. Is it only food? Does it matter that much? Why does it run through my veins, why does it chase me in my dreams Why have I shed tears for it? Why do I place things where I do? It has become the ART and no longer the Craft Today I did what I know how to do... Tomorrow I will attempt what I do not know Still all along. My apron remains at my side.

What became of my day Moments of chaos many of which I embrace Peaceful, so few... they are rare Slipping through my hands as if gems that were never meant for mine Clarity, for witch I can not grasp, it is there yet unseen It is the wind it is life That for which I have no control Understood By so few Trust In many I do not have Dreams They are my sanctuary Life taken for granted By so many souls around me Happiness hidden behind there smiles Forgotten (perhaps) My name my face Regrets I shall have none For as I saw it in my sleep I shall walk it in my day Truthful To myself ( A mi amor y a mi vida) Gone One day I shall be I will not remember but I will smile (not hidden) For I walked along the clouds My life was not a dream The chaos became my peace Clarity was more than just a breath that brushed my hair And though they slivered through my hands There was a gem that found its way to me (Andrea) Though I will not remember I will smile.

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