Sunday, January 19, 2014

I like to bake my cake ... and eat it too

I like sneaking out to the refrigerator at night and
Absconding on tip toes back to my office with a piece of cake that fills my plate
Regardless of the size of my plate or
The consequences
I get a lot more out of baking it
Which I suppose is why it shouldn’t have surprised me
To see my son and daughter there on the platform
Alternating between
Standing right on the edge of the yellow line  
Bending forwards at the waste with head cocked to the left
To peer down the tracks at anything that seemed to move
Bouncing about with huge smiles
To no discernible end whatsoever
Now it is true
That they were in slack jawed and open mouthed awe of New York City
But never again that day
Not emerging from the subway station into Times Square
Nor Watching taxi after yellow taxi zip past
Did I feel like I was upstairs in one of their bedrooms
About to head down the stairs
Into the darkness
On pins and needles and
Eager to see up close
Just what was in the stockings
Under the tree
Bake a cake before you eat it and
You’ll understand

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