How I love thee, my pie ala mode
Your crust is golden, as if baked by the sun
I'll eat so much of you I just might explode
Your filling is sweet, with cinnamon and apples
Still warm from the oven, made by mother's hands
I should give thanks, where the chapel?
Ice cream on top, Golden Vanilla Ice
Melting into rivers that cascades into the plate.
The first bite is delectable, full of everything nice
What a wonderful fate to put on this weight.