Are the old desserts lonely these days?
The Chiffon Pie, the Southern Ambrosia?
Do they talk among themselves, sweetly reminiscing,
or are they plotting revenge, counting the hours
when the come-back cupcakes of the moment
will lose their appeal like aging movie stars?
Think about the brief flame of Crêpes Suzette,
the meteor shower of baked Alaska,
the volcano of Chocolate Molten Lava.
Where are they now, those desserts abandoned,
the Boston Cream Pie masquerading as cake,
the sopranic Peach Melba, silenced by time?
Has any one seen, lately, the magic inversion of
Pineapple Upside Down
all woozy with brown sugar?
I wonder if Tiramisu is still standing upright?
Or has she taken a seat, like a wallflower,
next to the Blondies that once flirted
as if there were no tomorrow?
Who remembers Nesselrode Pie,
gooey charmer of yesterday?
Who wouldn’t root for her embrace,
or at least a brief buss on the cheek?
Life being short,
sweetness is needed,
if only to woo us silly at the end of the meal.
Bring on the Mont Blanc, the Bavarian Cream.
Don’t we all deserve another chance?