PoetryKafe

I wake up one morning,
The smell wafts through the air
Bringing the feeling
Of the great things soon to bear.
A growling starts
Deep down in my tummy
My mouth starts to water
For tastes that are yummy.
I jump out of bed
Find my mother a baking
I shiver and shake
And my legs start a quaking.
Anticipation grows
I know the reason,
The holidays approach
It is the cookie season.
There are cookies on plates
A thousand tins galore
Just so many kinds,
A bezillion or more.
There are ones that are round
And some look just like noodles
There are oodles and oodles
Of those snicker doodles.
There are ones that have raisons
And some that have spice,
There are dozens of shapes
All taste rather nice.
There are some that have nuts
And some that have sprinkles,
Some with white frosting
With a whole lot of wrinkles.
Some have wonderful shapes
And some look like drips
But I think that my favorite
Has the chocolatey chips.
I watch with one thought
The cookies make so clear
I hope she made enough
To last the whole year.

by Geoff Weilert

(2 votes, average: 3 out of 5)

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