Like an apple pie.
Carefully constructed.
A solid crust.
All the way up the sides.
And over the top.
Buttery, delicious, crunchy.
It must hold the filling.
The goodness within.
Tasty, sweet fruit.
Simmered and sugared.
Why the pie is.
Baked perfectly, to perfection.
Cooled a bit.
Announced alive and well.
Set aside some whipped up cream.
Near a coffee pot.
Break out the china.
But don't break it.
The silver silverware.
Everyone on their best behavior.
Pride.
Sharpest knife in the drawer.
Cut just right.
Piece by piece, each scrumptious.
Gone, the slices of attractions.
Eaten, the meetings of minds.
Tasted, the delights.
Anticipation no longer.
Keep it around.
It'll last for days.
Preserved in tin foil.