Banana Nut Cake, When The Wife Bakes Poem by George Vee

Aah the aroma
Wafting on scented blush
The air is but a bloom of happiness
And pure delight

The soul just cockles from warmth
Within and without
Of what gifts this brings can there be much doubt?

Earthly riches and material wishes
But pale for in the moment there is but
The world of this aroma
My universe, my delight

What you ask and wherefrom you speak?
It is but humble banananut cake the taste that I beseech
But when baked at hearth from oven warm
Transcends that cake to a taste of storm
The senses, the air, the soul, all unite for that supreme
That supreme wonderful delight

But wait, might one just add butter dear
O elevate that cake - butternut supreme
My home, my self are lost within aromas of hot butter
Melted and wafting and floating on warm, on fresh banananut cake

And so I live in simple fear
That simple cake, my butternut supreme
Might stay my simple pleasure, guilty as charged
In the moment
And Forever and ever