The Dessert

Upon a sill of woven cloud and fern,

Where stolen hours refuse to turn,

There sits a kingdom, glazed and bright,

Brought home upon the tides of light.

A crust of stardust, crimped and pressed

Like velvet pillows for the west,

And in its heart, a ruby lake

Of summers that no frost could take.

It glows with raspberry and rose,

A magic spell the pantry knows,

Where grandmamma’s old silver spoon

Stirred memories of a vanished moon.

One fragile bite, and time unwinds:

We leave the heavy world behind,

And soar on wings of buttered gold,

To fairy tales we used to hold.