Butternut creams

Butternut creams have a way of
Finding their way down the shelves
Of the kitchen larder;
Round and crumbly, warm and fresh
They jump down, into eager hands
Of hungry children.
They leave evidence, so naturally;
Crumbs, scattered over the stone floor.
Our dog licks them up,
(Who will notice... no one!)
Until mum comes home:
"What's that smeared all over your mouth?"
Ah! The butternut creams have disappeared?
The ghost must have visited us again!