350 degrees
bake for 8-10 minutes
until golden at the edges

the smell of cookies would wander through rooms
dance us through nostalgia
and we’d count down the minutes until
we could burn the tips of our tongues
by choice

as a child I’d imagine all the things I’d get up to
all the cookies I could eat without
permission granted
if only I was older

today, I’m on the precipice of the rest of my life
and consumed by what the right choice is
or even if there is one
I recall that sense of fearlessness
of burning myself and not thinking twice
I could use some of that bravery now

10 thoughts on “98

  1. Elle, I love the smell of fresh-baked cookies. What you wrote is so true of almost everyone that couldn’t wait to taste the hot cookies even though it meant getting the tip of their tongue burnt. I also burnt my tongue a few times, by choice. The cookie choice as a child carries forward to the choices we have to make as an adult. Sometimes, something smells and looks so good that we just have to burn our tongue. It’s the choice we have to do. Love what you wrote, Stan


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