Do You See?



He made it for me on one wintry day –
Flavorsome, fragrant and round.
Wiping mild sweat from his forehead
He called out, “It is ready!”

I rushed to discover an orb oozing warm juice
An apple pie – brown and balmy!

His thick oven glove was burnt in the corners
I could see his little finger sticking out
Yet the fresh pie smelt of honey and ginger,
His own secret spices.

The top was brown, as it should be.
The sides were curled and dark … over baked?
Bubbling juices froth like a baby’s mouth.
He watched me in glee.

As we dug into the slices
Fresh bodies of Empire apples lay limp,
Translucent, a little tart and inviting –
Warm to our tongues and mysterious.

He watched me eat and sighed with relief,
I know why, finally he knows how to make a pie!

As the brown slices fast disappeared,
He discarded his torn glove and sipped his tea.
Speaking to me in a conspiratorial tone
He said, “I never put cinnamon in there you see.”


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This entry was posted on February 25, 2008 by in apples, eat, food, pie.
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