Frolicking above the asphalt
Was sugar snow and flour fleet
My tongue, pales, as saliva sits,
Awe in hunger. Eyes stalking fingers
Hugging dough, kneading.
Flour drives by, each inch of breath
Respiring my grandma’s smile.
Betty Crocker sweetens
Into smithereens
To her study of spice.
Homemade rubbery syrup
Coats the throat
Of cinnamon swirls
With hints of ginger
Dancing till it reaches
The sun in your stomach.
Midday glares as warmth
Baked the coconut meat
Well-groomed for a marriage
Of tastes, both savory and sweet,
To celebrate paradise
Upon reaching the bliss
Of your tastebuds.
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