As a young child I would
awaked from my mid-day nap
to the glorious smell of fresh
home-baked cookies, not the
premade out of the tube crap
... the real deal made by mom
Was I dreaming of her awesome
soft baked chocolate chips, the
classic sugar cookie or the
peanut butter thumb print
No matter... I was good with
anything produced by her hand
Sneaking down the stairs to the
kitchen I follow my nose to
discover nothing but aroma
Mixing bowls are all cleaned and
no sign of any used baking sheet
First instinct is to climb the cabinet
and search the old hiding spot
to no avail, she has out smarted
me yet again in concealing evidence
No jar is left probing by my best
Sherlock Holmes investigation
the HIDDEN COOKIE JAM will
not outwit me again and again
I will seek you until I find you
then I will lay waste to you like
Cookie Monster had his way on
Sesame Street.