Cold, and smooth with a surface creamy,
Pink and white spirals of color prime,
A taste that makes me think I'm dreaming,
Of a better, quieter place and time,
So in I sink my tongue to taste,
The flavors strong and full of joy,
And though it drips I will not waste,
I will lick the drips like a little boy,
Not a single drop of this stuff so sweet,
And full of such inspiration deep,
Will touch the shoes upon my feet,
Or the ground where keepers sweep,
From the top of the mound I will start,
And take my time around the sides,
From my hand this cone will not part,
Until there nothing left resides,
And when the end of cone comes near,
I'll be sure there's ice cream in the bottom,
To catch the very end what's oh so dear,
And cause a brand new day to bloom and blossom.
