It sits there, silent,
unharming,
craving for us to consume;
So innocent and delicious
awaiting our indulgence.
What we don't know, yet,
scandalously,
are the calories it holds;
fattening, unhealthy, friendless,
filled with chatting words.
Dipping into the well, dark,
treacherous,
the morsels salivate our teeth,
driving our craving beyond full
till the scone is gone.
And for the one, creator,
baker,
the scone is no longer hers.
It's at the whim of the eaters,
if wondrous, revealed to more.
(Inspired by a conversation between my friend and former boss, Katie, and me)
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