Stands upon my countertop

A spatula with mixing bowl,

Though if I think before I make

My stomach gives a growl.

In goes the butter;

What I'd do is whip it lots,

I'd keep going until I'm tired

Until it becomes white mush.

In goes my sugar,

Oh, so pure and white,

But don't forget to sift it through,

Or else it'll clump like rice.

And yes, what I'll do

Is mix it lots

Until it becomes

One huge lump.

And add some milk

A bit at a time,

Until you can think

You can make a nice line.

Now throw in some color,

Whatever you like,

Don't let me choose,

Its up to you to decide.

Now, what you do from now

Is get a piping tip,

And cut of the corner of a bag

Which is triangle in shape.

The last thing to do

Is to put the buttercreme into,

The triangular bag; twist it,

And squeeze it through.

Soft and fluffy

So bright and cute,

Though the the taste somewhat

Is miss or shoot.

Pour all out your feelings,

Especially when making sweets,

And when you give to people

Make a smile on their teeth.

‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡†‡

... = - =

I know this is weird... Having this poem title. But I'm really happy that out of all my attempts at making butter crème, I finally made a somewhat decent-looking one.

I actually made a rose out of it. Even though everything is not haha.

Happy Valentines!!!