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.
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