a poem by: jennifer
homemade baklava and chicken marsala.
a rich, creamy, tart lemon curd
and a perfectly roasted thanksgiving bird.
a humble stew and a flaky pie crust i can do.
a moist and tender
(be it slightly lopsided)
3 tiered wedding cake...
a complete failure at a simple pancake.
raw in the middle, black on the top
i try and try, but they are always a flop.
i often concede, and pass the job,
to the ever successful pancake god.
but when given a request by a sweet, sweet babe,
i will try again, always their slave.
and surely one day i will serve
the stack of cakes that they deserve.
but until that day should arrive at my door
can i offer some pear frangipane or something more?