2 September 2012
There's an imposter in my kitchen
Waiting to be devoured,
It's presence more unsettling
After each golden hour,
Cloaked in a lattice
Of dishonour and deceit
Smiling oh so sweetly
In a manner quite discrete.
It rhymes off it's ingredients,
The list of lardy lies
But it's true contents can't be masked
In its crisp disguise.
It's really inexperienced
When compared to this butterball;
It's full of golden syrup
Not a treacle tart at all!
Treacle? • Opuss № I