Ode to a muffin

There are desserts and there are other desserts. Some are nice, but most are heavy. To me, a dessert should be heavy. I must regret having learned to eat after eating the dessert. There is no other way to enjoy it. Here, I am talking about a muffin.

I don't know why I love it so much. Probably because of the wonderful exterior, probably because of the moist goodness locked inside that only the truly worthy can access, or probably because of the fulfillment it provided me without me realizing it ever. Now we all know that they are fattening, and probably sinful, but a muffin along with a chocolate cheesecake can be pure heaven.

I love food like I love women…well…a woman! She would kill me if I use the plural in a cavalier fashion!

Here's to my muffin…there can never be another…maybe there can, but I don't want another one ever. All I need is time to acquire it, and to enjoy it, but there seems less of either.

(To my dear readers: I apologize for the truly indulgent post. It has no purpose of entertaining, nor of informing. It does not seek to encourage, entice or to ensnare in witty dialogue. It is merely a whim of mine, but I need it all the same.)