smell of lemon muffins
I am lured in by the smell of lemon muffins, so tall
the blueberry scones are calling me to the back wall
Oh, my goodness, are those Italian cookies homemade?
I enter the bright bakery wondering why they don’t pull the shade
The sun is pouring in, lighting up the day in fast order
Grinning big time is the proprietor, old Mrs. McCorder
We are making two homemade soups for lunch, she tells me
And you’d best come back for apricot pie, it will be ready at three!
No one has to pull my hair to get me to buy my fill
My sacks are so full they threaten to over-spill
I leave with rhubarb pie and three kinds of homemade bread
I’ll be back at three, I holler, to Mrs. McCorder’s sweet head.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
