The Ice Cream Speaks. Poem by Nabakishore Dash

In the scorching heat of summer
my demand surges everywhere.
Due to my shape, size, contents,
colour and flavour,
in banquets and festivities
I am everyone's cynosure.

Made up of milk, water, cream,
fruits, sugar and a few grams of fat.
I am tolerably cold, attractively coloured,
yummy in taste and
as soft as a baby's butt.

Cosmopolitan but
short lived when taken out of freezer.
If not used immediately within few minutes, my solid physique gets
changed to drops of coloured water.

People of all ages, all genders, all
hues may have their so called
inequality.
But they all lick or bite me gently
or enter me partly or fully in
their oral cavity.

Young men and women use me
in many different manners.
They think me an aphrodisiac
for their romantic partners.

I am pleased as punch because
people kiss me with their soft lips
and I sacrifice my life for
their entertainment.
I justify ' a long life may not be good enough, but a good life is long enough'
Sir Benjamin Franklin's quote.