Cake

Another Saturday morning dream, or part of a dream.  In the dream I was going to get married. This was the cake that was served first, before the wedding.  It seemed the round one layer cake came with a template of uneven pieces.  The dream (and cake) carry echoes of Communion.

The round cake came already cut into pieces:

An uneven jigsaw puzzle:

A perfectly crumbed,

Sweet enough,

Confection puzzle.

When the plates were passed around

Everyone got exactly

His share,

Her share.

We knew it.

There was a piece left over

For the person who wasn*t there.

The cake pan

Baked it that way.

The baker said:

It*s a family recipe.

It goes way way way back.

When I woke up

I thought to make the cake myself.

The pan is nowhere

To be found.

The pan must be passed down

With the recipe

Baked and served

With just enough irregular pieces,

Always

One left over

For the possible 

late-arrival.