Pies
The rain has just ended.
I myself inside feel bended.
Into the yard I'll creep.
Out the back door by the sweep.
There the dirt hills, road fleet
With this shovel this dirt to keep.
I'll make Mommie a sweet treat.
Mix some water, with Puddles meat.
On the floor to place them neat.
Right by Mommies golden feet.
Neat little pies in a row.
Only to help Mommie, cook and sew.
from my poem book - DREAMS
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