To Make Cakes, She Bakes Biscuits
There are ways of approaching things,
Of getting a job done properly.
Head-on works for some,
Sneaking behind for others.
But she sidles in unseen,
Making a practice run—or two.
To make cakes, she bakes biscuits.
Filling trays with her dreams.
Risking a little before attempting
A lot, she watches them rise.
A measure of temperature.
Proof of her technique.
Ovens are temperamental.
Life can be that way too.
Things don't always turn out
The way you'd like them to.
Don't trust in others' recipes.
Test what's right for you.
To make cakes, she bakes biscuits.
Love crumbs fall moistly apart.
Crispness bites, snapping brightly.
Worth risking something bigger.
That will last longer than treats.
Sustenance and proof of love.
Paul Whybrow
There are ways of approaching things,
Of getting a job done properly.
Head-on works for some,
Sneaking behind for others.
But she sidles in unseen,
Making a practice run—or two.
To make cakes, she bakes biscuits.
Filling trays with her dreams.
Risking a little before attempting
A lot, she watches them rise.
A measure of temperature.
Proof of her technique.
Ovens are temperamental.
Life can be that way too.
Things don't always turn out
The way you'd like them to.
Don't trust in others' recipes.
Test what's right for you.
To make cakes, she bakes biscuits.
Love crumbs fall moistly apart.
Crispness bites, snapping brightly.
Worth risking something bigger.
That will last longer than treats.
Sustenance and proof of love.
Paul Whybrow