Not to be Trifled With.....

Sponge cake cut from

the packaging,

then carefully cut into trifling

little squares,

gently lays the foundation for the class act

to follow.

Sherry bottle at hand, in hand,

and handed out,

soaks the squares that are nothing

on their own.

Sufficiently now embalmed, the cake awaits

its covering,

thick yellow custard rivers which will

hide the potency

of what lies beneath - the children

mustn't partake!

Cream, whipped to satisfactory peaks

seals the deal.

Cherries of red and green fall

nonchalantly,

plopping as artificial gemstones of

Christmas cheer.

Thus the yearly trifle is ready to meet its fate,

bravely enduring

its purpose in life, staunch and proud!



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A dVerse poets prompt to write about food, particularly food that connects in some way to ones self. My grandmother was famous for her Christmas trifle and every year we try to replicate this dessert. Her trifle though, was made from scratch - she baked the sponge cake, made the custard with real eggs, put brandy/whiskey/sherry to soak the cake and always placed sliced toasted almonds on top. Today store-bought sponge/custard etc make it too easy. I do miss her 'real deal' trifle, which as children, we were only allowed a very little bit.....

Here is the link to dVerse: Food Food Food


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