It was créme brulee on a Sunday,
Heavy in its tub of a white ramekin -
My spoon didn't even register on the surface
While yours cracked and plunged right through,
Revealing little dots of vanilla in soft custard.
The wind blew haphazardly past us,
Landing a leaf in my water glass,
Sweeping away the rest of the season.
We shared a Danish on a Tuesday,
Baked with rounded hemispheres of apricot
Darker yellow than egg yolks just cracked -
I stared, as if taste could come by seeing;
You tore right through to split it.
And the sun set early in the window,
Quickly dimming the shade of sky,
Closing off the last days of the year.
Café Composite by Jean Liew | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
