POETRY

Cake

What would you do for a piece of cake? Would you go back to your childhood?

Focused on the only thing that matters | Pexels — August de Richelieu

When I was a kid,
all I wanted was cake.
My mouth would water, pupils dilate
and pulse agitate. All future acts are to amalgamate to a piece.

And these cakes — too much
at birthday parties became leftovers in the fridge,
covered on the table or on top of cupboards:
reasons to act nicely, play obediently,
and ask childishly for only a piece

Of joy that sets my knees in bouncing motion
feet in dancing obligation
legs swinging back, and forth
when the chair’s too high
and spoon’s held in a fist;
shirt and mouth dirtied with bliss.

But now, we take a bite at life
begging it to be a piece of cake.

II
But now, we contemplate
we try to foresee a future we cannot see
we worry slightly too much about outcomes
that can be slightly too much if they come out

we doubt ourselves; think twice; debate;
“knock out”, instead of going to sleep.

III
Wake up with eyes set upon dreams.
Our goals are as wide as the ocean
but we never show appreciation
to the streams

too focused on the intangible
too serious to see the better side of delirious.

This spirit of youth you sometimes criticize and punish,
is what you cherish.
You need it to feel replenished
but it’s locked inside your cage of maturity.

IV
They say the good things in life
are supposed to be…