I see a woman walking down the street.

From her head to her feet,

she is so sweet,

-

on a poor man’s eyes.

She is key to saving me from my demise. 

She will keep the money flowing,

keep the business growing.

Her skin is white as flour,

Her hair is as yellow as yolk,

Her eyes a deep chocolate,

Her movements are as fluid as milk.

She must have butter fingers,

I saw the bag drop from her hand.

I rushed over and returned it.

Invite her in,

just to stay the night.

She enters the bakery with a smile in sight

But when she enters the back, she is met with a fright

I need the ingredients.

And now I have the flour, eggs, chocolate, milk, and butter

The cake won’t last long,

so I’ll need another.

I peer out the window,

I can see her glow,

I spot another widow.