Everyone wants to get their taste,
Of that piece of delicious homemade pie.
Grandma 'use' to make!
But few have the credentials to apply,
And be accepted as the baker.
Since it is the baker who takes the heat,
If the number of pies are not baked to satisfy...
Those who just want to sit and eat and not sweat.
Yet feast.
To leave feeling they are entitled,
With their wishes and dreams...
Getting more impossible to meet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem