Guilty Pleasure

by Belle Jone

With a gentle pat of the spoon,
Crisp golden-brown now broken,
Uncovering a creamy custard beneath.

Each spoonful scooping away,
A portion of the bliss,
Until the clunk of the spoon is heard.

Waving over the waiter,
Embarrassed from guilty pleasure,
“May I have another one, please?”