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

But                  

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

And

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

Tiptoes

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