Cookie Crumble

four star shaped cookies

Photo by Cook Eat on Pexels.com

 

It is the cookie that she wants

No teddy bear, no owl, no bunny.

It is the cookie that she holds

In hand, not in her tummy.

She takes it with her to the park

She holds it all through bedtime story.

She’d bring it right into the bath

To her it’s mandatory.

Her mother sighs

Because she knows:

It is the cookie that will crumble

All over blanket, sheets, and pillow.

The cookie that she’ll have to pry the last remains of

From her child’s hand tomorrow.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt

Maine Wind

Maine Wind NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Even as all others hunkered down

Ahead of the incoming hurricane

And seaweed caked foam splattered sand

She walked on,

Her umbrella

Less a shield

Than battleground.

 

 

For the Sunday Stills Challenge-Wind

 

A Knotty Problem

knot DavidJFred

Photo: David J. Fred

 

 

She refused to retreat

In the face of defeat.

She pursed lips, furrowed brow,

Still the bead would not bow.

Pushed into the string’s knot

It slid off … yet she fought.

All suggestions were waived

She refused to be saved.

Five more minutes she spent

String nor bead would relent.

Just as frustration frayed …

Cookies came to her aid.

 

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Radiant Rebel

April Snow NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

The little lamp

Refused to go.

Morning or no

It dug its toe

And held on glowing

In the snow.

 

 

For The Daily Post