Keeping The Faith

I remember the bread bakery,
that heavenly smell,
down on Third Avenue
deep in the heart of a
steel town.
First, church.
Then, you'd been at the
bakery,
and you'd stand there
nose to the glass
oggling to find the
right moment to say,
this one , that one,
and this one too, please!
Pastries were a part of
your life. It was as
clear as that Sunday
drive.
The filled cupcakes,
the raisin or apple
turnovers,
the chocolate chip,
peanut butter or
sugar dough cookies,
the nut rolls
and bon-bons.
Finally, those cakes.
You'd always always
have your name smeared
in green or blue or red
across the middle of it,
and of course you'd hold
out your little hand
for a nice big piece
with a rose or a cherry
on it.
Just as many glorious
days passed by way of
birthdays, as I can
remember.
Everyone, at last,
out on the porch or
playing badmitten,
filled from cake and
ice cream just wanting
to relish the day that
God gave them to see you
just one more year older,
He'd done his work,
and kept the cake
coming.