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Half Baked
larrylark

Father’s hand closed upon the lemon.
 1
Knuckles coated, dust from baking powder.
 2
Mother mixing drizzle cake well made,
 3
Life was often sweet if sometimes sour.
 4
 
 
Stars glittered, comets raced.
 5
Blazed between rolling pin and sieve.
 6
We sneaked downstairs at midnight’s hour,
 7
mother had so much to give.
 8
 
 
Night dust drifted, smell of bleach.
 9
Tin on shelf, far out of reach.
 10

17 Aug 17


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Comments:

Cake is the new religion, Larry.
 — unknown

Alleloooooya, or should that read cerrumbs.

Larry full baked Lark
 — larrylark

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