Butter Cream

I remember cake not stained by the hurry-hurry dye of “let’s get this done, before too many take note of another year added….”

I’ll choose the sweetness of grateful desire to linger over the celebration of seasons represented there at the table, the love not subtracted.


Bring me the triple-layer cake

The one with the missing slice

Sitting high in the antiqued-glass sweet shoppe



Sugar so gritty none else could dare tolerate

Bring it and I’ll set it there centered atop my table

I’ll write of it all day