I love chocolate cake.
And when I was a boy
I loved it even more.
Sometimes we used to have it for tea
and Mum used to say,
'If there's any left over
you can have it to take to school
tomorrow to have at playtime.'
And the next day I would take it to school
wrapped up in tin foil
open it up at playtime
and sit in the corner of the playground
you know how the icing on top
is all shiny and it cracks as you
bite into it,
and there's that other kind of icing in
and it sticks to your hands and you
can lick your fingers
and lick your lips
oh it's lovely.
once we had this chocolate cake for tea
and later I went to bed
but while I was in bed
I found myself waking up
licking my lips
I woke up proper.
'The chocolate cake.'
It was the first thing
1 thought of.
I could almost see it
so I thought,
what if I go downstairs
and have a little nibble, yeah?
It was all dark
everyone was in bed
so it must have been really late
but I got out of bed,
crept out of the door
there's always a creaky floorboard, isn't there?
Past Mum and Dad's room,
careful not to tread on bits of broken toys
or bits of Lego
you know what it's like treading on Lego
with your bare feet,
into the kitchen
open the cupboard
and there it is
So I take it out of the cupboard
put it on the table
and I see that
there's a few crumbs lying about on the plate,
so I lick my finger and run my finger all over the crumbs
scooping them up
and put them into my mouth.
I look again
and on one side where it's been cut,
it's all crumbly.
So I take a knife
I think I'll just tidy that up a bit,
cut off the crumbly bits
scoop them all up
and into the mouth
Look at the cake again.
That looks a bit funny now,
one side doesn't match the other
I'll just even it up a bit, eh?
Take the knife
This time the knife makes a little cracky noise
as it goes through that hard icing on top.
A whole slice this time,
into the mouth.
Oh the icing on top
and the icing in the middle
ohhhhhh oooo mmmmmm.
I can't stop myself
1 just take any old slice at it
and I've got this great big chunk
and I'm cramming it in
what a greedy pig
but it's so nice,
and there's another
and another and I'm squealing and I'm smacking my lips
and I'm stuffing myself with it
before I know
I've eaten the lot.
The whole lot.
I look at the plate.
It's all gone.
they're bound to notice, aren't they,
a whole chocolate cake doesn't just disappear
What shall 1 do?
I know. I'll wash the plate up,
and the knife
and put them away and maybe no one
will notice, eh?
So I do that
and creep creep creep
back to bed
licking my lips
with a lovely feeling in my belly.
In the morning I get up,
'Have you got your dinner money?'
and I say,
'And don't forget to take some chocolate cake with you.'
I stopped breathing.
'What's the matter,' she says,
'you normally jump at chocolate cake?'
I'm still not breathing,
and she's looking at me very closely now.
She's looking at me just below my mouth.
'What's that?' she says.
'What's what?' I say.
'What's that there?'
'There,' she says, pointing at my chin.
'I don't know,' I say.
'It looks like chocolate,' she says.
'It's not chocolate is it?'
'I don't know.'
She goes to the cupboard
looks in, up, top, middle, bottom,
turns back to me.
You haven't eaten it, have you?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know. You don't know if you've eaten a whole
chocolate cake or not?
When? When did you eat it?'
So I told her,
and she said
well what could she say?
'That's the last time I give you any cake to take
Now go. Get out
not before you've washed your dirty sticky face.'
I went upstairs
looked in the mirror
and there it was,
just below my mouth,
a chocolate smudge.
Maybe she'll forget about it by next week.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Chocolate Cake by Michael Rosen )
- Death's Breath, Justin Reamer
- MOTHER, Pankti Vadalia
- Dead Brother's Note to Our Dad, Donal Mahoney
- Uncertainty, Justin Reamer
- Silent Tears, Justin Reamer
- Zur Wiederkehr meines Todes, Wolfgang Steinmann
- We shall overcome someday...for Ferguson.., Chenou Liu
- Partnership, gajanan mishra
- The Hydrangea, Justin Reamer
- Sonnet: Where the senses are scot-free, Laxman Rao
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