The Art of Baking

I bake my friends in small batches now,

savor them along side coffee milky with cream,

pull them from the oven, smelling like the past:

cinnamon toast, beach fires, candy corn.

Little bites inoculate me from oldness,

chase away musty pages of regret, rewrite

whole years spent not near them, shed light

on hard-baked mostly forgotten wisdom.

Long gone are the hundreds I used to bake

Dozens and dozens of cookies,

all gone, unremembered, no crumbs linger,

no lasting flavor to sweeten my tongue.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Art of Baking

  1. Peg says:

    You are a wonderful poet, enjoyed this one, timely

  2. Barbara Toboni says:

    Interesting comaprison, friends like cookies. Savoring the few batches of special ones. I like your poems girl.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s