The push to bake

       Waiting for the right motion to begin my baking
spree yet for some reason baking for a "contest" seems
wrong.

       My eyes are falling forward wanting to close up
for the evening. Even the paled soul is very agreeable
on this topic. However the mind is rolling over and
over the various chores still awaiting me.

     Ah how nice girlie frills are decorating paleness
in a white cotton poet's shirt. Even more so is the
saucy smirk that resides upon my rosy lips. Hmm.
mischievous indeed.

    Quirky no less, either. Seated quietly hoping the
soul listens to the mind and stays alert to finish all
projects at hand. Hmm. Yes extra hands and another
soul to help create masterpiece would be sublime.
Still there is just me.

    Here. Patting the cushion beside me, come sit with
me. Wake me up enough to draw laughter from my
spirit. Pressing upon my back to get up. Serve. Bake.
Be cute in my red canvas apron.

   Perhaps the push is there now I just need something
to pull, drag me to my feet to get motivation. Hmm
can you help me?

   Or shall I just put all aside and allow sleepiness to
take control over me? Submitting to the decadent
waves of foamy clouds. Hmm. What shall I decide?

    Perhaps yes. The change into frills. Watch as I
prepare for bed I become ever so alert. Typical in my
situation.

    Dear friend, oh, what shall I decide?