Cookie - poem by Emily

I peer tentatively over the counter,
As my mother lays,
A decadent batch of cookies,
Arranged neatly on some trays.

My mommy turns around,
Her delicate voice does warn,
“Do not eat the cookies, dear”
She leaves, and the cookies look forlorn.

The last thing I would desire,
Is my mother’s rule offend,
The mighty wrath that follows,
Would not be worth it in the end.

I do not leave the kitchen,
In fact, I pull a chair up to the edge,
Of the counter that holds those cookies,
Putting off my solemn pledge.

The aroma fills my breath,
Golden brown and chocolate tempt my eye,
The steam whispers to me gently,
And I yearn for just one bite.

I snatch a forbidden morsel,
And pop it on my tongue,
The flavor does not equal,
The song my mind had sung.

I feel a hand grab my shoulder,
And hear my mother’s loud and angry voice,
“You ate a cookie, so you are grounded.”
We all are given a choice.