(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

On Being Heavy

Deep dished...
And sometimes left frosted,
After cooling down.
From a temperature baked,
With a few standing around!

When spiced...
Slices easily!
And tart on tongue to anyone.
Determined,
By who is next in line...
Attempting to get a taste.

And on being heavy...
Showing tight lips licked,
Unbitten.
Begins...
When a wit knows how to end,
A spill!
Before it turns into a boil,
That kills the flavor...
Of a welcoming atmosphere!

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes )

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