They said, "What’s your dream snack?" — I thought for a while,
Then answered with mischief and a curious smile.
It starts with a crunch and ends with a glow,
A flavor explosion that steals every show.
First, the base — a cracker, but not made of wheat,
It’s stardust and sugar and something elite.
Then slathered in moon-jelly, sticky and blue,
That shimmers like secrets the stars never knew.
Next, I’d add fizzles that tickle the tongue,
With whispers of mango and cinnamon sung.
Some pop-rocks that dance like a carnival fire,
And drizzle of syrup that sings in a choir.
A hint of volcano salt, just for the flair,
Infused with bold pepper pulled fresh from thin air.
Then dust it with dreams — a pinch of delight,
Wrapped in a napkin of velvet midnight.
You don’t buy it in stores or grab it to go,
It’s summoned by scribbles and baked in a glow.
A snack not for hunger, but for the soul's glee,
A bite-sized rebellion, a treat to be free.
So ask me again what my dream snack might be,
It’s not made of food—
It’s made just for me.
This poem is my entry for the Sparks Fly Contest under the theme Design Your Dream Snack.
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