The carrots are as red,
As were the roses on our bed,
At the night when we were wed.
Layer by layer as the peels shred,
Reminds me of the gorgeously traditional red attire;
That you were in clad.
Your skin felt like cream,
Like a diamond that gleamed.
To which my heart screamed,
She is the enchantress who;
From all others is supreme.
Similar as your touch comes the smooth butter,
To which my lips stutter; and my mind goes absolute nutter.
How it was sliced by the cutter,
Without any kind of splutter.
Relatable to the way I shuddered; when you melted this lover.
Next comes the sugar so sweet,
The lack of which makes the cake incomplete.
Just as the day when your voice and my ears don’t meet.
Then is the exotic flavour of vanilla essence,
That adds the aromatic fragrance.
That is done precisely by your presence,
In my life and my entire existence.
Then we have the underrated salt,
That enhances the recipe like human faults.
The sweet rush that comes to a halt,
When our arguments reach above the vault.
You have no clue how much my passion exalts,
It is indeed a desirable default.
To adorn it with your favourite chocolate is the final step,
Followed by the tray in which it is kept;
Only for you to accept.
After the nights that I haven’t slept,
This is the token of cherishment, I wish to present.
Niharika Bhatia
Bharati College
University of Delhi
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