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Poem

The women in the kitchen are exceptionally pretty
Because they are my relatives, and they love me
My mother is wearing a red dress, but it is muted
Aunt Sue is dressed in green with a fancier apron

The entire house smells like vanilla and cinnamon
I salivate the minute I enter the kitchen
You may have one cookie before lunch, mother says
How can I choose just one?

My favorite cookies are all over the place
Chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter cookies
Gingerbread cookies, frosted sugar cookies
“Okay, two,” she says, seeing my dilemma.

My aunt sneaks me a third cookie when my mother turns.
“I saw that!” My mother says, without looking.
I am only seven, but I know she has eyes all around her head.
My aunt laughs, but I am scared now. What else does Mom know?

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