Post the Eleventh

Hello, world. Today on Life of a Pastry, I take a cheap shot at Helen Keller.

A Love Poem by Helen Keller

I remember that restaurant very well,
or at least those parts of it
that were within two to three feet of my body.

It was so sweet of you to help me find my fork,
even though you laughed for five minutes
while I tried to eat spaghetti with a spoon.

After our meal, you leaned over the table and every so gently
whispered sweet nothings into my hands.
To this day, I can recall exactly what you said to me:

.. .----. -- / -.. ..- -- .--. .. -. --. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -.. .. ... .- -... .-.. . -.. / .- ... ...

--Pastry

(P.S.: A million points to whoever translates the Morse code.)