Listen to poem:
Cake
A Victoria sponge is round,
Voluptuous soft and fluffy.
A bake that lifts and soothes a tired day,
Mirrored by the disc of warm comforting tea.
Yet as I gaze into my mug,
I sometimes yearn for a Battenburg,
Jolly in yellow and pink.
I think it knows that to be square and neat
Is just as sweet.
I see no need for its robes of glittering marzipan
And its vanity unnerves me.
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