Delicious smells come tiptoeing
Around the oven door.
They come creeping through the kitchen,
Up the curtains, 'cross the floor.
They cling to Mother's apron,
Curl up in Mother's hair,
Play tantalizing hide and seek,
Reaching almost everywhere.
Then, when it comes to tea time
And the still-warm cake is sliced,
They linger as the children sigh,
'Oh, thanks Mom! That was nice! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem