People are like rhubarb pies;
Fragile, flaky, and sweet
Or tough, hard, and acidic.
It all depends on how gently they’ve been handled,
On how much sugar has been sprinkled on their lives,
On how much heat they’ve had to endure.
Lovers are like shortbread cookies;
Tender, melting, and seductive
Or hard, demanding and crumby.
It all depends on the quality of the basic ingredients,
On how much they’ve been manipulated,
On how long they’ve sat around waiting for you.
Okay, I said I’d write a poem a day for a year. I never made any promises about their literary quality. And apparently there’s just been way too many sweets around the house over the Christmas season… sigh.