The Dessert

Upon a porcelain sea of melted pearl,

Where lavender clouds in slow geometry swirl,

A golden sun slips softly from the sky,

To bake upon the crust where dream-ships fly.

A custard tart, suspended in the blue,

Transformed the dawn to warm, familiar hue.

Its amber center held a waking light,

Chasing the shadows of the velvet night.

The silver spoons of comets drift and gleam,

To skim the surface of this sugary dream.

Each trembling ripple carries forth a prayer—

That sweetness lingers in the morning air.

For if a world can spin of pastry crust,

And gold can rise from ordinary dust,

Then hope is real, and waiting to be found

Upon this strange, delicious, floating ground.