You sweep the platform clean of crumbs
Where rats and ghosts both pay their due
The last train left an hour gone
But dough won't wait for me or you
Flour on the tracks at dawn
Yeast breathes deep in morning yawn
You knead the dark till light breaks through
Loaf rises where the rails once grew
Your hands know weight of rye and wheat
Measured slow like miles to fare
Each fold a turn down familiar street
No GPS for rising air
Flour on the tracks at dawn
Yeast breathes deep in morning yawn
You knead the dark till light breaks through
Loaf rises where the rails once grew
Fluorescent hums a dying hymn
Tiles hold heat from summer's bake
You punch the dough, the walls grow dim
A crust forms hard for morning's sake
Flour on the tracks at dawn
Yeast breathes deep in morning yawn
You knead the dark till light breaks through
Loaf rises where the rails once grew
No passenger asks where you're bound
No tip left on the vinyl seat
Just steam that climbs without a sound
And crust that cracks, golden and sweet
First commuters step on dusty floor
They smell the loaf before they see
You wipe your hands on apron worn
And drive the day away from me
Flour on the tracks at dawn
Yeast breathes deep in morning yawn
You knead the dark till light breaks through
Loaf rises where the rails once grew
Flour on the tracks at dawn
We break the bread when night is done
Engine starts. The meter runs.
Fresh bread warming in the sun.
