While languishing, I find myself (again)
forlornly wandering into this room.
I spy the one for which I have a yen,
but merely watching cannot quell my gloom.
A blue, like robins’ eggs, and cherry red,
the colors of her roses that entice,
adorn the velvet sheet of white that’s spread
upon this temptress, stimulus for vice.
I know I should be strong and never start,
but like some rodent crazed, I want to crawl
my way into that center creamy part,
then wallow there and feel no guilt at all.
But since I'm sweetly beckoned, I partake,
my diet foiled by luscious birthday cake.
(An oldie to post since I am not inspired enough
lately to write for any contest)
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich