When the baker bakes the baked bakery bakes,
Do they also bake the recipe required?
What's the recipe for a poem?
Does the poet pen the poetical poem poetically to pen their pretty poems?
What temperature do you bake ink-
To make it a bestseller?
How much baking powder do you bake into a page
To perfect its pagey turny pageiness?
What kinda poem crust does a poem become encrusted in?
Should it crumble?
Should it rhyme?
Should it cry a melodrama so dramatic that drama llamas like “that too much drama!”?
Wait,
Where did drama llama come into this?
Who else is in the kitchen cooking this poem pie?
Is the poem pie perfectly pied in its drama crust?
WAIT-
we forgot about the filling…
What do you put in a poetical poem pie?
Should I peach the pied poem?
The peaches plumpy peachy smile?
(i’m not sure how the drama llama feels about that)
Should I fill the peachy pied poem with orange and lemon citrus ?
A little bit of snazz to the snazzy apple pie.
Crap, I forgot the apples as well.
Well now my peachy pied lemony apple-orange poem is too long!
And i still don’t know what temperature to torch these thoughts at!
Well the pied piper pipes in that maybe my peachy pied poem needs some pepper
To pipe the spice to pied poem levels!
But lemony apple-orange peachy pied poems with pepper seems a touch peppery for simple pied poems to be.
But who ever said a poem pied can’t have spice and everything nice WITH lemon and apple and orange and peachy fuzzy smiles?
So,
My peachy peppered pied lemony appley orangy poemy is piping hot to boot.
Now i just need to figure out whos gonna eat the **** thing.

I can see the apple pie looking at me from the fridge
I’m really trying to pass it by, not notice its sweet pastry ridge
I don’t want to taste its appley bits, so fruity and delicious
My inner voice is just the pits, it’s acting quite suspicious
‘cause while I’m being very strong and showing great resolve
My inner voice is forcing me to watch the pie revolve
I know that I should just stand fast and keep the pie a dream
But all that I can picture is apple pie and ice cream
Wait, what’s that you say, you’d like some apple pie?
Someone has eaten up my dream; I think I’m going to cry
Why did I prevaricate, my conscience didn’t budge
And now I want it, it’s too late. I’ll just have chocolate fudge.

Yehudit sits
on the fence
by the field
and I sit

next to her
and it's sunny
and she says
what did you feel

after our first kiss?
wet lips
I say
and she nudges me

and says
no seriously
what did you feel?
I watch a rabbit

race across the field
in front of us
a butterfly flutters by
over the tall grass

I guess I felt excited
and I did smell
the scent you borrowed
from your mother

it had a kind
of appley smell
but didn't it make
you feel more alive?

she asks me
I look at her
the brown hair
the eyes bright

as new stars
yes I did I guess
I know my heart
was pumping

away some
and I sensed my lips
and yours almost
fuse into one flesh

and as I inhaled you
I wanted
to kiss you forever
I say

she smiles
and that smile
is the best smile
that ever smiled

and she kisses me
on the cheek
and I kiss her lips
and God

I think
is this
what love does?
and we sit there

kissing
and the rabbit's gone
the butterfly
has fluttered elsewhere

and it's just us kissing
on that warm
sunny day
just us there.