After the bar I can't go home
Cos tonight I don't want be alone.
Want stimulation of mind,
So company I find.
I should go home and go to bed,
But I galavant through the night instead.
Chitting and chatting until I pass out,
Meeting like minds and the odd lout.

All give me fodder which feeds my brain,
My poetry's bread, and you are the grain,
The water, butter and the yeast.
At parties, ears revel at magnificent feast.
I am the baker kneading the dough,
Mixing the recipes, letting heat flow.
Rising concoctions of words so delicious.
They're your words, do you think they're malicious?

If you knock the bread you'll find the perfect hollow,
Where your thoughts can nestle in a warm glow
Of soft brain brioche, with a sweet, fresh smell.
Full of tangy currants, which, in your scone can dwell.
A clever croissant of poetic pastry design,
A gift to digest in your head from mine.

Clare McWilliams

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brain-brioche/