Moonpie metaphors

When i was a kid
There was a someone
Who called me ‘moon pie’
Because of my fair skin
And my soft cheeks
I am still the moon pie
With marks on my skin
And a warm smile on my face
Either wandering in space
Or in the kitchen
Orbiting my orbit because i have to
And stuffed with what they want
With a drakside that does not reflect light
And still a someone’s favorite.

#prompt, where i come from

I come from a place where the ‘supposed to be’ wide roads
are a host of traffic jams everyday,
and the twisting and turning galli’s are big enough
for matches of cricket and football.

I come from the seas of desks and benches
where waves of books and pages
roars along with the crowded hallways and stairs.

I come from the house where the dinner table is filled
with the joys and humbles from the day
ending with the depressions of the evening news,

And even the dark places that reeks
with the stench of cold memories
that no amount of smoke can mask.