Ode to Apple Loaf, A Poem

Sunday was our annual girls-only trip upstate to go apple picking. My friend Adriana, who we call Schnapps, makes this thing called Apple Loaf. It's like heaven and apples baked together into loafy goodness. I can't describe it, except to say that it's like crack, and no one but her makes it.

Every year with our picked apples, she makes these amazing loaves, and I get some. Except for the year that her thieving husband, John, ate mine because I didn't make it over to get it quickly enough, and he found it in the fridge. That bastatrd. I'm still bitter.

But anyway, I wrote this special poem for her last year, as a thank you for both the apple loaf and for hiding my piece from John. I think the poem has held up well over time....

Ode to Apple Loaf
How do I love thee, apple loaf?
Let me count the ways

I love that you're moist and squishy,
while maintaining a breadlike consistency
I love that I got a piece of you
before you ended up all in John's belly

I love that you're perfect for dinner
when I'm too tired to cook
I love that you're there at breakfast
In a house, you'd go in that nook

I love that you're a reminder
Of how much my Schnappses loves me
I'll bet you that if I fell down,
You'd be better even than a kiss on the knee

So thank you, apple loaf
And thanks to my friend
I'll be singing your praises,loafie
Right till the end


p.s. Yes, I was stone sober when I wrote this.