On Going to Bed Without Dessert
by
Greg Pincus
My brain's full of sundaes and thick, creamy shakes.
My thoughts drift to cookies and pastries and cakes.
I'm thinking of donuts. My head swims with pies.
I see piles of candy when I close my eyes.
And pudding! There's pudding in bowls ten feet deep.
I guess Mom was right - sugar's why I can't sleep.
Happy Poetry Friday once again. This week's roundup is over at Today's Little Ditty thanks to Michelle. There's always great stuff every week... and it's National Poetry Month so you really have no excuses not to visit. (Cake image, by the way, courtesy of the generator at RedKid.Net)
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Love that 'pudding gets a lot more dreamy/topped with something whipped and creamy'. It just sounds so good, poetically too!
*licks chops*
My kind of poem!! Love it. Sigh. . .
Mmm... we're having whipped cream and berries on our pavlova tonight... so your poem couldn't be more timely.
Beautifully written, love it :)
am i the only one who occasionally used to (still do?) tilt his head back and pile some whip cream directly into his mouth?
perfect food, indeed!
My, oh, my!
Pile it, pile it, pile it high.
Yes, indeed! I'm glad David made his confession first - it used to be one of my favorite secret vices, until I was caught out by my son and now can enjoy the experience in the open.
NOM! Nothing better than whipped cream!
YOu have to stop!
This poem is getting me hungry!!!!!