Sponge Cake

I baked a victoria sponge this morning

It was cold in my kitchen
But the gas was lit
And the glow on the oven door
Was raking the coals of memories
To the fore

The mixing bowl had waited
For a few seasons it seems
Until the moment was right
To take the milk, eggs, flour and sugar
To beat it almost to a perfect submission
In readiness to be reformed

To be carefully baked
To rise into perfection
To be filled with freshly picked, dewy strawberries
And then eaten
Leaving the palate hungry for more

Poetry by LFD3
Read 188 times
Written on 2016-08-19 at 13:29

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Lovely. Made me hungry for more too.

Excellent work. Loved every bit of it.