To my baker, lovely friend
can I visit someday and come over?
Your cakes are still my godsends
though icings hungover.

Your frosting's in the air,
my obstinate competes.
Can a nice guy, now, take your chair
as your hands warm his seat.

As sour is to sweet riddles
and my fiddle once played mean songs.
Can we meet once in the middle
and makeup for all my wrongs?

Dough, ray, me a tune someday
for my heart will always find your way.

Logan Robertson
8/30/17