On a golden platter, dessert is served
Not a slice of cake, not a slice of pie, not
A delicious toffee pudding in a
Royal Stafford
Bowl.
But a book.
A beautiful book with a cobalt blue cloth
Cover, and shining silver
Lettering.
Inside, maybe a tale of mystery or
Adventure.
A saga, perhaps.
Or an historical tale.
To be devoured, savored.
No carbs to add to your belly, but words to
Enhance your
Mind.
Six hundred pages of chapters, paragraphs,
Sentences, in which to delve.
Maybe the word Mumbai, whose old letters
Spell Bombay.
The latter name rightfully evicted.
Maybe a story with brilliant red poppies,
Ships and sailors at war.
It could be a tale of a little
Bird.
The word, chickadee. Her nest in an oak.
Her story in chapter three or four.
How when she was young, she fledged.
A part fairytale, a part truth.
Battles?
Weapon pen, not sword.
*
A tale like a marble cake.
Flavors swirled, words combined.
Commas added for spice. Semicolons for
Sweetness.
Scarlet, lavender, periwinkle, celedon, and
Mint. Colors generously painted in words on
Paper.
The words, pearls, peridots, onyx, obsidian.
Conjured in conundrums, quandaries, and
Quenched. Questions, answered. Crises
Cliffhangered. (Some words invented.)
*
A duology, a trilogy? Or puzzle dessert in a Baker’s
Dozen?
*
This tale must end for now. I’ve gone on too
Long.
I’ve lingered lackadaisical. My sentences have
Jogged, perhaps run on, and sprinted.
Dessert eaten, done and dusted for now.
At a later date, more words.
Rebellious Hazelnuts 