Psalm of Sweets

On some month there is a call,
Lives of the living yearn to fall,
Beyond the grave it echoes,
Through the chocolate colored earth,
On through the mint syrup skies,
They sing of sweets left long behind,
Or the particular person they had yet to find,

Some go half mad,
When things are most maddening,
Alone forever, Forever alone,
These are things left to atone,
But to those of us yet to have,
That flavorsome, rare, and luscious bag,
We simply laugh and wish,
There is one we would be mad enough to kiss,

Hence to make up for this failed adventure,
We spend what we can in man made leisure,
So tricksome we are,
And playful with glee,
By being the most dreadful,
To buy for each other in the names of thee,

Thusly do not despair to be alone,
For this holiday is almost overflown,
With more wishes than what is held in bones,
And more syllables than our droning groans,
Thence pick your teeth of all this ardor,
And ergo the soap opera life no more,
Enjoy the tender covered strawberry weakness,
And whiff every flower with sneaky sneeziness,

For the lovely sweetness sings its psalm,
I prefer my sweet bitterness far above all.

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