The Dessert

A crown of ruby resting on the crest,

Arranged by patient hands with tender care,

A summer promise laid upon the rest,

Dispelling all the chillness in the air.

Beneath the fruit, a cushion soft and bright,

Of golden cream where vanilla gently weaves,

And cradled in a shell of golden light,

As crisp and fragile as the autumn leaves.

Each glossy berry catches morning's ray,

A little spark of sweetness for the soul,

To chase the lingering shadows far away,

And make a heavy, weary spirit whole.

A simple joy, baked golden in the pan,

The sweetest art that waiting hearts can plan.