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Fried Beancurd Bun

A Story of What Fades

By Michelle Liew Tsui-LinPublished about a month ago 1 min read

A stall in a Singaporean coffeeshop, stirred by the morning bustle.

The tau kwa pau (beancurd bun) stall comes to life.

The bun itself --

A tradition that bides time.

🔶✨🔥🍞✨🔶

An orange spark lights

Beancurd stirs with a sizzle

Warm scent of childhood

Crooks its fingers

To the mouths that wait

🔶✨🔥🍞✨🔶

Beancurd bun aglow

A golden halo enwraps

The flame roars

Licks the fingers that reach

Then stills.

🔶✨🔥🍞✨🔶

It quiets.

Red embers amber.

Beancurd's scent fades

Reaching fingers withdraw

With time.

🔶✨🔥🍞✨🔶

The fire dies.

Fried beancurd bun's scent

Forever in the air

For the fingers that will not

Get to reach.

🔶✨🔥🍞✨🔶

Taw Kwa Pau, fried to perfection and filled with minced pork, sliced chili and a complimentary egg, was commonly served in coffee shops and hawker centres in Singapore a few decades ago.

A tradition of old, one my grandma held on to.

The flame that prepares it still burns-

If only in the heart.

🔶✨🔥🍞✨🔶

Original free verse poem by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.

For Vocal's The Last Flame Challenge.

Free Verseinspirational

About the Creator

Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin

Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.

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Comments (5)

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  • Mariann Carrollabout a month ago

    This made me hungry. 🥰

  • Gabriel Huizengaabout a month ago

    Beautiful, vivid work - the scents and flavors of this scene come alive in your writing, Michelle! Stellar entry for the challenge, which really makes me want to try some taw kwa pau!

  • Sandy Gillmanabout a month ago

    You made this dish sound so delicious 😋

  • A. J. Schoenfeldabout a month ago

    Oh I loved this so much! First the line "Red embers amber" popped out at me because of the brilliant word choice (and also because it featured my name.) The line "warm scent of childhood" spoke to me. But my absolute favorite was "A tradition of old, one my grandma held on to. The flame that prepares it still burns- If only in the heart." I cannot bake without hearing my grandmother's words in my heart. Beautifully written.

  • Imola Tóthabout a month ago

    I never heard of this dish but now I really want to try it! A poem that made me hungry, that's a first :D

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