Baking

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David McLansky

New York City

David McLansky

New York City

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She bakes for him a birthday cake;
(As if my mind was not awake)
I ascend the stairs, she’s on the phone;
(Awkwardly, she changes tone)
And when she leaves, she droll inquires,
“What do we need? ” That I’d expire?
I dryly mention orange juice,
And then she’s gone, what’s the use?

A lingering smell of her perfume
Scents the air and haunts the room.

David McLansky

Thursday, April 11, 2013

poem poems Birthday

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Aftab Alam Khursheed 11 April 2013

mask and mask no one willin to open though people has nose to smell /baking nowadays i hope in almost all family///thanx a nice poem read mine i will not let you alone, i will make a graveyard, o my almighty nice feel to vote

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Gajanan Mishra 11 April 2013

we are in need of love, pure love. thanks.

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