One day into the hearth I went, by the oven's glow,
The scent of winter baking sifting softly through the air.
The Confectioneryist was there putting on a show,
With dough stuck to his fingers and some flour in his hair.
The candy called 'Divinity' was his pride and joy,
With many years perfecting what he called his 'Art';
And sometimes would secrete in each a little tiny toy,
A ploy of his to often melt the hardest hard of heart.
The dinger 'ding'ed and out they came, perfect in every way,
Like pearly incandescent clouds upon a summer's day;
And when he bent to get the rest, I pilfered some away
And after tasting of his 'Art', here's what I have to say:
It melts upon the tongue as soft as a feathered bed,
Then sits upon the stomach, like a quarter tonne of lead.
Alicat the Persnikitty
As I sit here dimly thinking
Watching modem lights a-blinking
Churning out poetic hash.
Lord, in all Your piety,
Help me keep my sanity:
Please don't let the modem crash! --Alicat