Red Velvet Cake (writing a poem that has a climax)

Red Velvet Cake is my favorite, It's Christmas Eve and I am going to the local Supermarket on Flatlands Avenue to get the ingredients I need. Cake flour, vinegar, sugar, butter, etc... . The long walk makes me think about the times I shared with my late older cousin, walking to the store for candy, soda, and chips, a growing child's diet. Back at the house, I stir wet ingredients with wet ingredients and dry with dry. it comes out perfect, even has the pecan topping my Grandmother would have loved. Of course as the chef I get to have the first slice, as I go to take a bit, it drops to the floor as if it was thrown, I repeat and the same thing happens. I feel so empty but can't get full. Suddenly the room becomes over bearing bright, my mother walks right through me, with the same cake in her hand, no pecan topping, no cut out slice. Mother says with a cry that muffles her words "I made the cream cheese frosting just like Diana would have loved", within that same moment a very familiar hand lays on my shoulder.