Monday, June 7, 2021

breakfast

there's a warm
bag of cookies on the porch.
no note.
no sign of anyone
up and down the street.
i pick it up,
open it and smell the freshly
baked sweetness
of sugar and butter,
warm dough.
it's a mystery.
i take it in and put a few
on a plate.
i put the coffee on.
i have no idea what to think.

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