Sometimes dad spread heaps of peanut butter on his cookies.
I never questioned why.
With age and a wiser view point,
Came an unspoken realization.
He wasn’t ruining the “good” cookies.
Only transforming the unpalatable castoffs,
Restructuring ingredients until they resembled
Hidden treasures that pleased us all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem