My life in retrospect
As I slowly unfold,
Feels like overbeaten eggs
So the cake no longer holds.

But I began to slowly wonder
Why does it need to hold?
What if it falls apart,
A story finally being told?

May be I poke it - if too dry,
May be I let  it crumble,

In a pudding  or a
poke cake,
I will not let it waste.

Won't you still have a piece?