Ice Cream

I think that I shall never dream
A poem lovely as ice cream.

It’s soft and smooth and cold and sweet—
An opulent delight to eat.

Vanilla, chocolate, cookie dough,
Pecan, or mint—my heart’s aglow.

I guess you, too, know what I mean—
You’re heading out to Dairy Queen.

No tribute could with taste compete,
So go ahead: enjoy your treat.

And unlike any poem yet,
You’ll find it ends too soon, I bet.

Ed Morris, 2019

(With apologies to Joyce Kilmer, author of Trees.)

This page copyright © 2019 Edward A. Morris.  Created January 12, 2019.  Last updated January 12, 2019.

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