The Dessert

Upon a crust of golden, toasted grace,

A quiet patience found its resting place,

A hollow shell, once empty to the breeze,

Now cradles sweetness, whispering of ease.

A velvet custard, smooth as morning light,

Fills up the shadows, turning grey to bright—

A blanket soft of vanilla and cream,

Woven from hope and waking from a dream.

Then come the jewels, kissed by summer sun,

A colorful mosaic, one by one:

The ruby strawberry, the golden peach,

And blueberries that wait within our reach.

Glazed like the promise of a brighter day,

They wash the bitter winter blues away.

Each slice a token, vibrant, fresh, and new—

A proof that sweeter mornings can break through.