Cone's Demise

Slow death of a yummy dessert.

Sweet cream glistens,
From light above,
Threatening a drip,
My tongue shoves.

Lips shape this way,
Mouth forms that,
Avoiding earnestly,
Gravity's path

Top disappears,
Taste's delight,
Eyes spy eagerly,
Wafer in sight,

One chip here,
Another there,
Suckling commences,
Sweet stripped bare,

Just the film remains,
And cake alone,
To the skeleton,
Remains my cone.