The cookies

I whip out the recipe
my grin betraying glee
I have a huge smile
that stretches a mile
That those far away can see.

I opened the flour bag,
and watched that flour sag,
while a powder went floating
Like snow that is gloating
Oh! And I opened that flour bag.

I poured out a cup of milk,
That looked like watery silk,
It splashed impressively,
splattering, sadly
on the counter; wasted milk.

I pulled out an egg that was fat,
and promptly it fell with a splat;
Oh, egg you are gone!
This recipe was so long!
But at last I got through all that.

I grasped the vanilla tightly,
And adjusted the lid slightly;
The vanilla was poured,
And relieved I toured
The pantry, nicely and kindly.

I mixed with a spoon,
And hummed a tune,
The cookies were coming out fine,
I shaped them with a cutter of mine,
They would be done soon.

I held in my hands a tray,
With the cookies all looking my way,
And I opened the door
and saw the interior
Of the oven, and - O, I say!

The oven was hot,
and I was not,
And I stood contemplating heat,
With those cookies I wanted to eat,
Unsure of what I sought.

The cookies were finally baking,
And oh, so long they were taking!
At last they were finished,
And not diminished,
As I took them out, hands shaking.

But, alas, for my fate
(and how that word I do hate),
Was to trip on a ball,
And to promptly fall,
Dropping the cookies on plate.


(I know, I know, Kirk! The meter isn't right! :P )