The Dessert

A velvet midnight spun on silver wire,

We baked the crescent moon in amber fire.

The crust—a shattered dream of toasted wheat—

Now cradles oceans where the sweet tides meet.

A lake of brooding cacao, deep and dark,

Awakens now with many a golden spark;

For shooting stars have fallen from the skies

To melt as diamonds in the cocoa-rise.

No grief can linger where this river flows,

Where bitter pods become a blooming rose.

A single slice lifts heavy clouds away,

And turns the shadow to a peach-dawn day—

A world forgiven, rich, and softly spun,

Where every ending is a sweet begun.