My darling mother use to make
The most savory muffins you'd ever find.
No texture was ever quite as soft,
Nor sweet flavour so divine.
And I would giggle as the blackened seeds
Would stick and stay between my teeth,
So as I skipped around the garden
She'd know if I bit into the meat.
And if I walked inside too slowly,
She'd catch my fingers all stained blue
Her breath I'd hear so very softly;
Her watchful eyes always knew
That I'd wandered off once again
To my own world with lidded eyes;
While she warned me to not play in the garden
And that those red petals would be my demise.
But I loved to pick them so very gently;
And dig my nails into the bud,
While the milky liquid dripped down slowly,
As it tingled through my blood.