I hope that the title of this blog doesn't gain me a load of readers who want religion-themed baked goods.
There aren't the words to describe the momentary joy that cake brings me. I talk about it quite a lot, although more than I eat it. I watch TV shows about making it. I make it myself. I love it. And yet I haven't found it easy to write about it when concentrating. I suppose it's like trying to pin down a butterfly, or drink from a mirage. There's definitely a Burns poem about that kind of thing somewhere... I'll go and find it later.
Anyway, here's all I've been able to do about cake so far. Two tiny little poems, both inspired (in form) by the dead dude.
Cake With Friends
Oh, cake. You smooth, sweet chunk of fluff
I can never tell when I’ve had enough
And just the thought will suffice
to make me smile
Sit down with friends and a slice,
and chat for a while
Ah cake, yer sweetness I maun’ hae
Wi’ the braw het coffee on ma knee
E’en ma brither’d sit doon for cake
Wi chocolate on’t
An’ he’s nae often wan tae chat and mak'