“Strawberry Moon”

Banana loaf.

That's what we are.

Sticky, carby mess.

The fruits of our labour mesh together

In a tin, a contained space

We should all rise.

But we cannot coexist.

One overpowers the other.

My sticky sweet melts to your stoic malt.

Masking.

There's a raisin.

Chewy, dry and sweet inside.

Tough as old boots and good for you,

In spite.

Served up and dashed in icing.

Cake for an afternoon.

What's the occasion?