Cookie Jar

My childhood cookie jar was brown And looked like it was Asian. It must have been a gift, but I don’t know for what occasion. Bright flowers and some animals Were intertwined with gold. I always found it ugly, Yet such sweets were in its hold: Vienna fingers, Hydrox, Chips Ahoy and Pecan Sandies; Nothing homemade, only cookies – Never cakes or candies. It rested on a pantry shelf, Not really on display. That “out of sight” thing didn’t work – We plumbed it every day. For years I hadn’t thought about That jar or sneaking snacks Until, in an antique store, Something stopped me in my tracks. For there it was, in front of me – “Tobacco Jar,” it said; And all those memories just started Crowding in my head. I didn’t buy it, even though Nostalgia has its place. You can’t relive the past But certain objects we embrace. That cookie jar seems special now, Still ugly, though, in truth; But buying it would not return me To my long-lost youth.