The Dessert

Beyond the veil where ancient forests gleam,

Where purple moons dissolve into a dream,

A silver alchemy begins to spark,

Within the quiet hollows of the dark.

The twilight gathers in a copper bowl,

A conjured memory that warms the soul.

Wild velvet plums, by twilight faeries cast,

Are plucked from shadows of a sweeter past—

Deep indigo and bruised with summer's fire,

They weep their nectar of a lost desire.

Above them falls a constellation’s dust,

A brittle magic of brown sugar crust,

Charmed oats and winter-spiced celestial grains,

That whisper secrets of forgotten rains.

The hearth-fire glows with dragon-amber breath,

Defying time and autumn’s chilly death.

Then from the oven’s enchanted, golden door,

A phantom warmth drifts softly to the floor.

It tastes of childhood summers never old,

Of twilight spells and stories softly told,

A bubbling potion in an earthen dish—

The sweet translation of a longing wish.