04-12-2015, 09:57 PM
Here's an unpolished revision, without meter (I'll try to fit it to one if this gets mostly positive responses). I strained out most of the icky parts (the first line, honey-water, the 'mingles' part, the 'souffle' part, the weird peach part...), clarified the metaphor, added a frame story of sorts, and tried to smooth the transition into the volta, as well as make it (the volta) less Gothic. I hope this is the right direction!
We have our dinner outside the city,
among the trees. As I serve our dessert, you
burst into song: "Oh, the heavens are a glass
of parfait! The sun is the syrup-drenched peach
at the bottom; over it, a meringue of dew
carefully folded into the creamy air
floats; and then, a light sprinkling of green mint
and cocoa, the earth in all its richness!
"But we're always so keen to dip our dirty spoons
into the mess, to have too much of it,
and to poison it for the rest." In the distance,
the smokestack city harries its last hurrah
for the day; its digits of stone and steel
spew heavy smoke into the sunset sky.
We have our dinner outside the city,
among the trees. As I serve our dessert, you
burst into song: "Oh, the heavens are a glass
of parfait! The sun is the syrup-drenched peach
at the bottom; over it, a meringue of dew
carefully folded into the creamy air
floats; and then, a light sprinkling of green mint
and cocoa, the earth in all its richness!
"But we're always so keen to dip our dirty spoons
into the mess, to have too much of it,
and to poison it for the rest." In the distance,
the smokestack city harries its last hurrah
for the day; its digits of stone and steel
spew heavy smoke into the sunset sky.