A PROFESSION OF TRUE LOVE
By Bethany Crandell at the request of Julie Cizenski
In nineteen-hundred and twenty-eight,
two unfamiliar souls shared their very first date.
The chocolate bar so rich and so sweet,
on its own a decadent, PMS-numbing treat,
was lonely and bored, in search of a companion,
a partner for life whom it would never abandon.
And then there was peanut butter,
(PB to its friends)
whose deliciousness knew no boundaries--no ends.
Salty and sweet, creamy and thick,
to the roof of your mouth forever will stick.
Their meeting was angst-filled,
as first dates often are.
Nervous giggles, bashful glances,
awkward silence in the car.
But before long their nervousness disappeared like a ghost,
and the two shades of brown partook in a toast.
Over cocktails and dancing, they laughed and they mingled,
flirting and flitting, while their innards did tingle.
An unlikely duo? Possibly so.
But wait! You've no idea where this story will go.
From the club to the backseat of a Model T Ford,
they unscrewed and unwrapped, and cried out, "Good Lord!"
The trumpets did blare, the angels did sing,
and out from the car emerged the most heavenly thing.
Nestled inside thin, waxy brown paper,
with scalloped edges and in the shape of a wafer.
It smelled of divinity and all things that are right,
and made even the bleakest of futures look bright.
The perfect combination of salty and sweet,
even Jesus himself wept for this divine fete.
Born of two opposites clearly made for each other,
the little chocolate cup filled with peanut butter.
 |
| (Yummy photo courtesy my Flickr pal, Bob Fornal) |
