An Ode to Snowcake

There you sit so unassuming

Amongst the soaps and creams galore,

A giant disc so gently looming

With your scent that I adore.

A creamy guise so smooth and pale

Renders you to be ignored,

Unless perceived by scented trail 

Your hidden joy to be adored

Beneath your face of gilded white,

Which only angels maketh can,

You promise only pure delight

Of almond cream and frangipane.

Your scent which lingers from a distance

Must be pure ambrosia,

Bestowing on us all an instance

Of the most delicious rapture.

Exaggerate? Moi? I do not think.

For Snowcake I await all year

And of it's fragrance I would drink

Should it be edible, my dear!

The scent it leaves upon my hands

And blesses all my bathroom space

Is of the LUSHEST marzipan

From surely a most magic place.

Snowcake, Snowcake, so I sing, 

I raise my Christmas glass to you,

Joy to me is what you bring,

Every year forever true.

By Pandora

(Unconditionally, unashamedly, hopelessly devoted to Snowcake soap by Lush)