Sweet cherry cobbler… baking in my favorite dish,
Your goodness of flavor now fills the morning air,
Filling every corner and smallest niche.
Lingering smells filling children’s nostrils,
While they lay fast asleep in their beds,
Golden brown…with your cherries ripe,
The deepest of deepest red.
One eye slowly opens up…then another soon appears,
Flinging back the warmth of their winter covers,
Soon all the little ones will be here.
Down the stairs they tip toe… one by one,
Wiping the nights sleep from their eyes,
Quickly washing up to eat… your cheery goodness surprise.
With forks in hand at assigned table places,
They sit quietly and await,
As mom takes a generous scoop of you,
And places it lovingly… on each plate.
Then mom tops it off with fresh wipping cream,
That our kind milk man left this morning on our steps,
In hopes that maybe he too might one day see,
A piece of your cheery goodness...on our front pourch set.
By: Linda Winchell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem