Precious pumpkin pie sits on the table high.
Untouched, waiting to be devoured on Thanksgiving.
I try to take a taste but
Mother forbids it. I storm off to my room, slam the door
and start to
Pout. On thanksgiving day everyone is so busy I can
hardly
Keep up. Tiptoeing into the kitchen to find the pie where
I had left it last night. I stick my finger in the whip cream
and then taste it. I
Never knew it would taste so good. Oh know mom
caught me she
Puts the pie in the fridge and sends me to my room and
I never even got to
Eat that precious pumpkin pie.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Precious pumpkin pie sits on the table high.
Untouched, waiting to be devoured on Thanksgiving.
I try to take a taste but
Mother forbids it. I storm off to my room, slam the door
and start to
Pout. On thanksgiving day everyone is so busy I can
hardly
Keep up. Tiptoeing into the kitchen to find the pie where
I had left it last night. I stick my finger in the whip cream
and then taste it. I
Never knew it would taste so good. Oh know mom
caught me she
Puts the pie in the fridge and sends me to my room and
I never even got to
Eat that precious pumpkin pie.
Note that this poem is childish that is because I wrote it in 4th grade :-D
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