The Dessert

In the stillness of late summer,
the sun hangs low, a golden orb,
while I wander into the kitchen,
where the air is sweet with whispers—
a dance of cream and sugar.

A bowl cradles plump blackberries,
dark jewels glistening under soft light,
their skins taut with promise, bursting forth;
each one a secret from the garden,
the taste of earth captured in silence.

I fold them gently into a silken blend—
cheese like clouds of morning mist,
sugar's embrace warming all that it touches.
The crust beneath is a cradle of crumbs,
buttery sighs that sing to my senses.

Oven’s warmth blankets me as I wait—
time slows to a crawl; anticipation thickens.
I dream of slices shared beneath wide skies,
of laughter rising like steam above plates;
mouths watering for that first bite.

And when at last it emerges—
golden edges crisped just right—
I am lost in the swirl of flavors:
tart meets sweet in an endless waltz.

Each forkful brings me homeward again—
to gatherings where stories weave like threads;
to sunsets caught between breaths and wishes.
Blackberry cheesecake—a tapestry spun
from seasons past and those yet to come.