Post date: Nov 15, 2022 2:54:4 PM
by Aerinbard Fallohide
Hot Fudge Pudding my mother called it, but to me it was love that rose on wisps of sugary steam. The thick chocolate heavy on my tongue brought bliss; the soft cake,my teeth slowly sinking in, wrapped me in comfort.Winter's cold,when wood, brushed with silver,needed chopping
and horses, blowing steam in the night,
needed feeding
and ice, in clouded panes,
needed breaking
in the trough,
could never touch me long
with my mother's
Hot Fudge Pudding
on my tongue.