She bakes for him a birthday cake; <br />(As if my mind was not awake) <br />I ascend the stairs, she’s on the phone; <br />(Awkwardly, she changes tone) <br />And when she leaves, she droll inquires, <br />“What do we need? ” That I’d expire? <br />I dryly mention orange juice, <br />And then she’s gone, what’s the use? <br /> <br />A lingering smell of her perfume <br />Scents the air and haunts the room.<br /><br />David McLansky<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/baking-4/
