Poetry, Relationship

Fig Pie

Baking 

Is taking the good things we find

And, surely but slowly 

Losing those thing we pride


Now, we’re cooking 

Now, we’re cooking

This pudding

This pudding of demise


As your eyes bring to wonder

At the humble pie

Of another

As we being to sunder


Now, we’re cooking 

Now, we’re cooking

This pudding 

This pudding of demise


There’s no sugar coating this pie

As shortcrust pastry is peeling away 

From unappealing dainty of I


Now, we’re cooking 

Now, we’re cooking

This pudding 

This pudding of demise


My own fig pie


My fib lie