I baked a pie – naughty like my thoughts about you. Cherries reminded me of your long fingers and nuts spoke about your merits for me. I wanted to see your face in those sugar cubes, but they have melted down – just like your compliments for me. I wanted to taste your opinion about me, but it has evaporated like a bottle of perfume. I was biting the pie bit by bit from every angle and spitting it back on the plate – just like wine tasting. And then I realised it’s stupid – a pie is not that sophisticated as good wine.
Next time I’ll bake a pie that will have a taste of you and I will drink it in one go. Like cough syrup.
– Chatty Owl has left the building –