The Dessert

A fragile crust of porcelain white,

Where dreams of flour take silver flight.

We sailed across a pastry sea,

To find what time had left unfree.

A pool of ruby, bleeding bright,

Beneath a weeping weeping-light,

A ruby eye that gently cries

For summers under buttered skies.

And floating in that lucid lake,

A quiet hope began to wake:

An almond shadow, soft and pale,

Unfurling like a paper sail.

The frosted lattices unbind;

We leave the heavy earth behind.

A single sphere of blushing red,

Suspended high above my head,

Transforms into a rising sun—

And dawn, at last, has just begun.