poems

Cookies

The kitchen is abuzz with the whir of the cake mixer.

But it is not a cake it is mixing.  It is cookies she is fixing.

Soon they are in the oven, becoming demons of temptation that will cool on the cookie sheets, on their way to the cookie jar, minus those lost to eager fingers before they can be safely tucked away.

Hence they will disappear, victims of the lack of self restraint of those who know better but just can’t wait.

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