adventures in dysthymia

Sunday, August 03, 2014

Cobbler, a poem

Cobbler

I am a gobbler
of peach cobbler,
with ice cream laid on thickly.
I can’t resist
Nor do I desist;
It disappears quite quickly!

A golden crust
is a must,
with fruit that’s sweet and ripe;
bite after bite,
if it’s done right
you’ll hear not a single gripe!

The cobbler beckons,
I do want seconds —
I can’t resist that aroma.
But if I ate
another plate
I’d go into a coma.

Stephen Brooke ©2014

Just some silliness. I have been baking cobblers with fruit from my own trees --- despite pinching off more than half the fruit when it first developed I still have a prodigious pile of peaches to pit and peel!

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