A dozen cookies

I see them for a moment,

 and then they vanish out the door.

Smell lingers,

 as well as the remains.

By that I mean the disaster.

Empty bags of powdered sugars left on the counter.

 Knowing they are destined for the garbage can,

   a mere foot away.

Leftover frosting on the table,

 while the coloring and sprinkles sit lonely.

Neglected cookies,

 who had waited patiently,

   slowly dry,

     and grow hard.

All forgotten,

  for the lucky twelve,

    who went out the door.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing tale for the twelve cookie. Just need a cup of tea or coffee. Cookies will taste okay. You create visions and described interesting and fun tale. Thank you Jon for sharing your amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Jon Roggie]

I have to play.

[Coyote Poetry]

You play well.