The Inkwell

Forbidden

Mother has been baking,

the cake sits on the table with pride

“Do Not Touch” – says the label

propped up by the cake on the table

that’s been prepared  by the three

especially for tea.

But Horace he is hungry,

and the cake’s there on its own

he’s snook into the kitchen

not knowing his cover is blown

thinking what he will have with it

he’s wondering in a dream

not knowing his Dad has spotted him

he’s thinking of custard and cream

No one will know – he’s said to himself

hovering around it like a naughty elf

but to his shock – his dad does rise

and saves the cake – he’s lost the prize

as he comes in and puts the cake on the shelf!