—kitchens hold their own histories, and even the stove seems to know more than you’ve told it
It hums before you touch the dial,
a low, familiar, embered smile.
As though it knows the meals you made,
the ones you burned, the ones you saved.
It warms the room with quiet truth,
heat remembers more than youth.
The pots still hold a scar or two,
the kettle bears its ring of blue,
and every stain along the grate
is whispered proof of some old state,
a night you stayed, a night you fled,
a word you almost left unsaid.
You brew again. The flame leans close,
as if confiding in the roast.
The past fogs up the kitchen glass,
a shape, a scent, a glancing pass.
You drink. The stove exhales its glow.
Some things return. Some things just go.
📜 The Stove Keeps Secrets – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 1 tbsp Dark Roast (preferably scorched)
- 12 oz Water (warmed slowly, like recall)
- A hint of Stove Heat (earned, not bought)
Instructions:
Turn the burner on low and let the flame speak first. Brew in a pot with one old stain you never scrub out. Stir until the smell reminds you of something you can’t place. Sip near the stove, where the warmth knows who you were. Let the heat confess what you won’t.