the key lime pie my father made
has been sitting in the freezer
for weeks.
i never particularly cared for
that key lime pie my father made.
limes are tart and
pies mushy.

but the day is long.
the sun darts across the sky,
sending oppressive waves of heat
down upon my head.
and that key lime pie my father made
is starting to look quite tasty.

a bit of frigid air seeps from the freezer.
and there it sits,
exactly the same as the day it was baked.
that key lime pie my father made.
beads of sweat soak my forehead.
mouth watering, eyes gleaming,
an eruption of greedy hunger
consumes my every thought.

so light, so fresh, so decadent.
sinful.
yet perfect.
piece by piece, bite by bite,
savoring each taste, each burst of flavor
melting upon my tongue.
i haven’t wanted anything as much
as that key lime pie my father made.

autumn rolls in and
that key lime pie my father made is gone.
when next summer comes
i shall have another.

though never as good as the first.