Slumberless Baker

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It is at night the best I bake
An impetus encourages
That I should make a lovely cake.

I cannot sleep—I lie awake
The mixer calls me in my bed
It is at night the best I bake.

Although from work my hands may ache,
Batter speaks of fruition near—
That I should make a lovely cake.

This strange desire is quite opaque
Impiety for need to sleep
It is at night the best I bake.

The treats are for another’s sake
They ask me—please—to stay up late
That I should make a lovely cake.

At last I’m done, I take a break,
But still no rest because I know
It is at night the best I bake,
That I should make a lovely cake.





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