There I lay, on the tray, the single Cinnamon Muffin.
They had baked me good, so did I smell, I had swollen to the normal size.
As all say, and so it may, I was worthy of my price.
You looked at me, a rotund muffin, peering through the rout.
I was meant for you, the sweet little thing, my mates having got sold out.
But my master said, as my heart bled, that the last one ain't intact.
The taste I assure, but don't insure, alas, the last one, in fact.
You then had bent, and vibes got sent, running down my baked core.
One close look, all it took, yes, only me you had to devour.
I blushed at your sight, thought of lovely night, as you would savour me with your tea.
On the rainy night, in refracted starlight, your sole companion I shall be.
My happy master dropped me quick, in the paper pouch.
Goodbye Inn, Tumbling in, I let out a happy ouch.
You held me close, next to nose and "Gosh" I did whiff.
Walking back wet, poorer too, as you casted a loving sniff.
You sat on the couch, with the paper pouch, held proudly in your hand.
As your angry Mom, glared at you, your feet soiled in pale wet sand.
She still made you the tea, but I could see, happy she was not.
You would prefer, the home baked pie, with the piping drink she had thought.
You pulled me out, twirled me swift, I was a good eat.
"Her cinnamon would, smell too good, with a little bit of heat."
Mom hardly purred, and inferred, I was the satan muffin.
"On a rainy night, would an act of slight, suffice to take her to bin?"
She then proposed, lets not dispose, but store her for now.
"My dear son, C'mon taste the pie, and tell me it tastes wow.
I won't get time, am growing old, and then I might just die.
With all the love, and fresh apples, won't you prefer the pie?"
You looked at me, I was scared, you told me I must wait.
I m saving the best for later, you told me, as calmly the pie you ate.
The pie was big, so her love, it never seemed to end.
But she did take care, to box me up, to the refirigerator I was sent.
Under the lid, I wonder insipid, as frozen days go by.
May be I should not have been the muffin, that night you got to buy.