(D)Oh-Boy

(D)Oh-Boy

They may have only been doughnuts,

But they were more than doughnuts to me.

They were the first thing, in a very long time,

That I'd been able to buy my family.

They were fluffy and fresh and so sugary.

They were jammed full of sweet sticky jam.

They came in a box, half a dozen,

And when I carried them in I was The Man.

We were all, each of us, looking forward,

To biting past the glazed crust to the dough.

Each dinner plate was finished in record time,

Then I was delivered the deserting blow.

They weren't on the bench where I'd left them,

Neither were they on a shelf in the pantry.

I searched high and low for those little nubs of dough.

In the fridge? What had given you that fancy?

They'd been baked fresh today, those doughnuts,

They'd been fluffy and light and heart warming.

Now they're chilled and hard bready balls,

With glazed icing that direly needed a thawing.

The cold gluey jam was like jelly,

And it didn't ooze out as it should.

They slopped and plopped, the innards that dropped.

All in all those doughnuts were no good.

Little Billy began crying, Susie ran off,

A puddle of jam left melting behind her.

Sally, she booed, which put you in a mood;

I think buying them nothing would've been kinder.

So remember this ode, to those little nubs of dough,

And if you're buying them fresh, please don't chill them.

They should be fluffy and light, an absolute delight,

And the refrigerator will certainly kill them.

By J. Barrett