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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.
Copyright ©
Joe Sloppy
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