Turning to merge with the happy
herd,
I heard clinking against frosty
glass --
Ladyfingers escaping tiramisu,
Followed by creamy swirls of
Chocolate mousse --
And beckoned to their shelf, I
asked
If they desired of me to have a
word.
A dolce chorus of confections
confessed
How to my hips they wished to
bestow
Love handles destined to be
caressed
Through the streets of the Feast
Of San Gennaro.
(c) 2024 Gabriela
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