A Nonpareil of Tarts
by Carol A. Stephen

I wandered aimless,
upwind of the bakery this morning, startled
as the door swung open sending the scent
of pies hot from the oven wafting on the breeze.
A squander of clove and cinnamon, fresh apples!
In the window, a nonpareil of tarts, muffins,
and miraculous cakes, each topped with a curl
of fine chocolate.

I passed by twice,
trying to imagine the tastes, elusive in memory, each but a ghost
upon the tongue. I tossed intention in the gutter, turned in defiant
scorn at an ego demanding a svelte body when just steps away
the prize of salty cheese bread, chocolate torte, cranberry tart,
and yes, that apple pie!

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This poem was written to a NaPoWriMo prompt in April 2013. There was a list of words, the requirement was to use at least five. I managed 12…