Cream Filled Pastries

A sweet fragrance pierced the air As I hold on to this moment. Awaking at last to lonesome bedsheets As I hear movement from within the kitchen. I arise to a foggy atmosphere being probed by lucid sun beams Flowing through mundane draped curtains As the murky morning dew splashes against glass. I arrive next to you As heat slowly radiates against my exposed body. Holding against you As you create our nectarous breakfast. Honeyed and milky, Sugared and Ivory, Glazed along the top, And darkened upon the bottom Due to being battered with flames. Diverse types of jellies slurped and oozed Out from tightly carved holes As a coat of cream penetrated The interior of the dough. Flashes of the night before Danced along memories as I watched Cream filled and ready for more As I groaned your name at dusk. It has been years prior Since I have seen a pastry Drenched as I have been No longer afraid of the unknown. Willing to risk taste and passion In order to receive what I most desire. You flip the sweetened goods The same as before. Smacking the top Of the lightly toasted tart Caused liquids to flow down the side Squirting out from its petite cavern. I watched over your shoulder While you work slowly, Passionately. Tender as the night was long. As I stumble to the table You place the delicacy on a plate, with ease. You begin to feed me Your cream filled pastries.