You hand me a bowl full of chocolate pudding
With whipped cream and sit down with yours
in the big lazy chair. The image of
you remains in my head burned in
softly over the many years– a perpetual
Polaroid of your smile and the
bowl of some delightfully sweet
supply of dessert you hand me
the ice cream piled high with syrup and
scoops of whipped cream
and bananas and your smile in the
blue glow of the television. We share
the night and it occurs to me how
pleasant is the sound of your voice and
the big cold spoon of sweetness you give me
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