Another Stale Old Tart

There was but one dark chocolate tart left in the silver tray It’s cherry, pinched by passersby so early in the day Its dreams were dashed as it could see the softly dimming light meant that the little bakery was closing for the night It longed, just to be purchased A cream filled destiny But all was lost, it seemed as there was little hope, you see Though thoroughly delicious and still a work of art No one seems to care about another stale old tart