Flapjack Serenade

Your crunch oat exterior,
The soft, warm, syrup within.
The sheer bliss of your taste on my tongue
Is enough to make me grin.

Golden brown, you sit there.
A rectangular beauty on the tray
Of cold hard steel, and your alluring smell
Will keep me here all day.

I long to eat you, truly I do,
My tongue aches to smell, my lips to taste,
To leave you there, lonely and sad,
That really would be a waste.

I can't resist, I take a bite,
I fell bliss of every shade.
And, with your demise, here ends
My flapjack serenade.

The End

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