By Josie Whitehead
First come the eyes which spotted that Mum
Was making the cake that would end in my tum.
Third came the taste as I licked out the bowl
And my mouth had secured its ultimate goal.
Fourth came the smell from the oven that bakes
Those scrumptious, delicious, mother-made cakes.
Fifth came the feel of that cake in my hand
And now it's all gone, but
*Eeeeh it were grand
* Yorkshire dialect for “Oh, that was good!”
Illustrated by Nicole Geast
Second the ear that heard the blades beat,
Whirring and stirring ingredients sweet.