NPM 25: Warm Pudding

Even though few to none seemed to have joined me in my challenge, I march on. Honestly, I am quite enjoying myself and am sad that the end of April is so quick approaching. I'm not sure without such a challenge I'd be able to keep this up. I've written quite a lot for the end of a semester.

I'm not sure the following poem does the actual experience justice, but here it is.

25. "Warm Pudding"

The box said "serve warm
or chill"
You wondered,
Who would want to eat warm pudding?
We measured the milk
then took turns stirring
as we waited patiently for full boil
You held the large, hot pot
in your mitted hands
as I scooped it all out
sliding the spatula along the sides
"Don't miss any," you said
When the large bowl was full
and ready for the fridge, I said
"the box says we can serve it warm."
Puzzled, you licked the spatula
Then you did it again
so I joined to
you licking one side and I the other
With spoons we dived
into the already forming crust
cutting it back
watching the soft pudding emerge and bulge
"mmmmmmm"
I grabbed a large spoon
filled a small bowl
so we wouldn't get spit in the source
We shared, almost silent
savoring the rich, warm flavor
then I said,
"I almost just want to dump a tub of Cool Whip on this"
"Really? Me too."
So we did.
right on top
creating a mound of
cool and warm
rich and sweet
heaven in a bowl
time slowed down with every lick
I almost felt we were in a painting
the two of us
standing at the counter
in the morning sun
still wearing our aprons
sucking on spoons
and marveling
at the wonder
of warm pudding.