I Called You My Butter Cookie

I know them way back, packed
in the supermarket, stacks after stacks.
Labeled blue, each blue can,
our big city’s favourite, wrapped in red —
spring’s warmest gift.

It must have been your baby blues, or me
overwhelmed in a scent
so flattering, in a way
so sweet. It caters to my court,
your ship.

Crunchy touches, sugar on top, taste
on my tongue, the best flavour
unlocked — the best thing I know from your country —
all these golden pieces of loveliness,
sink in memories.