The Divine Temptation: A Pastry's Paradise

Of that forbidden fruit, not apple now but sweet

Ambrosial pastry, golden-crusted, steaming hot,

Whose fragrance wafts like incense through the mortal realm,

Enticing souls to taste what hands divine have wrought.

What art celestial shapes such perfect roundness thus?

What flame infernal bakes such heavenly delight?

The first man's fall was but a trifle to this bliss,

For Eve's temptation pales beside this flaky shrine.

O pie! Thou vessel of all earthly joy contained,

Thy circle infinite, thy taste, salvation sweet.