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The Last Cookie


A jar of delicious cookies

The Last cookie

 

I still remember,

The December embers,

The arctic atmosphere,

And my ashen skin,

Both of them met,

Early in the morning.

 

I was awfully exhausted,

But I still grin.

Toil after toil,

Trouble after trouble,

My job was hard,

A jar of cookies,

Was my ultimate reward.

 

I was traumatized,

I can’t believe my eyes,

Lost for words;

I know the cookies are dulcet,

But are not enough to pay,

For my blood and sweat.

 

I was outraged,

A pungent aroma,

Crammed my nostrils…

Till it reached my heart,

And filled it with saccharine.

 

The jar eyed me,

I fingered the jar,

It appeared to be enchanted,

I was anxious to open it,

As if it was treasure.

 

With a gentle measure,

I lift the jar,

Opened the lid,

Something rushed out,

As if a charm revealed,

A pleasant odor,

Embraced my nostrils.

 

Unwillingly my fingers reached out,

And grabbed a crunchy cookie,

I can feel the expedient ingredients,

In my hands,

I took a bite,

It filled my heart,

With immense delight.

 

Questions raised in my mind,

Where it was baked?

I believed in the fairyland,

Or maybe in the wizarding world?

Because it was seductive,

I became an addict,

My hands reached out,

Again and again,

While I crunched and bit.

 

All was lost,

The last cookie remained,

While eyeing it,

I felt asleep.

 

I saw a familiar silhouette,

Taking the last piece,

Because when I awaked,

The jar was all empty,

Once again I was outraged,

But I don’t know why?

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