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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Food/Cooking >> ID #869427 |
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A simple woman with one syllable name,
more often than not, I’m a guest at my own table, but today has endless possibilities since I am baking chocolate chip cookies for “The Green Room,” a posh corner on the cul-de-sac of life. Don’t heap them too high, don’t let them tumble, don’t “slam” the pan too hard, don’t let cookies crumble. Three cups flour, baking soda, salt, vanilla, brown sugar, two eggs and chips, butter, and nuts -optional- for cookies a la kings and queens, magnetic poetry in a cookie pan. Bake at 375 for nine to eleven minutes, faster than hasty pudding. Don’t heap them too high, don’t let them tumble, don’t “slam” the pan too hard, don’t let cookies crumble. Each cookie has magic, a wish-bone dream, with a special curve against the tongue, the soft part is in the middle like the heart, a single motif smoothing into poetic fortune to make memories that refuse oblivion. Don’t heap them too high, don’t let them tumble, don’t “slam” the pan too hard, don’t let cookies crumble.
© Copyright 2004 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com).
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