Blistered Briskets - Tongue Twister

Tongue Twister: Blistered briskets brimmed with brittle brambles burned beneath the baker’s blazing beam.

Poem:

The baker cursed the morning sun,
Its blaze a whip upon his run.
With blistered briskets, burnt and black,
He stoked the oven, turned his back.

Brimmed with brittle brambles' snare,
The trays rebelled beneath his care.
Flames danced high, a fiery stream,
Beneath the baker's blazing beam.

The air was thick with smoky plight,
A war of dough and embered light.
Each loaf he shaped, each crust he crowned,
Now lay in ash upon the ground.

Yet in the corner, soft and round,
A single bun, unscorched, was found.
He held it close, a fragile spark,
A triumph born of charred remark.

The baker sighed, his lesson learned:
Not all that's lost is truly burned.