The Waiting Game Poem by Andreas Vesna

The cracking of the eggs have set in motion the meandering processes of delectable genesis, with their orange eyes filled with fiery embers of colour. However they are to be joined by an enveloping slew of sugar, as tasteful as the fruits from an edenic enclave in the jewels of the pacific. Then the rest of the ingredients trample in. Flour, baking powder and a sultry drizzle of butter, melted like dropped ice cream on warm summer concrete. Given a stir and a dollop of vanilla, with it's delicate notes of the tropics, and the emulsion disappears into the oven. Now comes the waiting game.