tenderly I whisk
milk and sugar
to a beautiful simmer
of soft bubbles
I carefully temper
the temperamental eggs
which just love
to scramble
as if frittata was a word
for a Spanish dance.
add in vanilla beans
the soft whispers of home
waft through my solitary kitchen
a wooden spoon
coated in sweetness
the pots of pudding are poured
into delicate
white
ramekins
the glass takes a bath
to toast
and firm
in the oven
I laugh
wondering
if that would work
on my thighs
finally set
finally cool
I sprinkle raw
crunchy
sugar
overtop like pixie dust
torch in hand
I marvel at how
such a thing of beauty
can come from
so much flame
crack…
scoop…
yum.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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Comments (3)
Beautiful poem, it made me hungry. I sprinkle raw crunchy sugar. Well Done!!
There's something magical about baking, you captured so well✨ beautiful poem!
Yummy 😋😋😋