We Are Midnight Ingredients Baked In A Pie Poem by Mark Heathcote

We are midnight ingredients baked in a pie.
A steaming hot crust do I espy?
I want to lift off the lid of this one,
Maybe more, but for now, just this one for sure?
I am dreaming of syrupy black cherries without stones.
I am thinking of a sticky toffee substance rolling on my tongue With oodles of custard and a smattering of ice cream.
Now I am ready to take the plunge,
But it's just too perfectly formed,
So I think I'll admire it from a distance—
But darling, 'for how long? '