Ice Cream Soup

Every night for dessert,

I knew just what I’d eat.

Ice cream of varying flavors,

made into my own special treat.

At first I called it froyo,

but my brother said no, that’s not right.

There was no yogurt in my concoction,

just churning my ice cream with all my might.

Stabbing at and then swirling,

it didn’t matter the filling or even the topping.

I just had to get my ice scream silky smooth,

and did so without stopping.

Eventually it would blend,

and make my soft serve soupy ice cream.

It was worth all the world every time,

my smooth treat was like a hard earned come true dream.