Cookies, Milk and Mother's Love

               


                         The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the air.
                         Mother's in her apron and there's flour in her hair.
                         Her eyes twinkle merrily; she smiles from ear to ear.
                        "Put your school bag down," she says, " and  sit down over here."
                         Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
                         warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.  
                         She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day.
                         The ups and downs, the hurts and joys that came along my way.
                         The politics of recess groups, I did poorly on a test...
                          I argued with my best friend; at spelling I'm the best!
                         She wisely listens then wisely speaks then hugs me,  oh, so tight!
                         Cookies, milk and Mother's love; I know things will be alright!

The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the room.
Mother's in her apron and there's batter on her spoon.
Her eyes twinkle welcomingly. She smiles from ear to ear.
"Put your work bag down, she says, " and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day.
The ups and downs, the hurts and joys that came along my way.
The politics and red tape I must constantly wade through
I argued with a co-worker, the planned project I got to do.
She sympathetically listens, then sympathetically speaks, then hugs me, oh, so tight.
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.

                   The smell of baking cookies is wafting oh so sweet!
                   Mother's in her apron and there's sugar on her cheek.
                   Her eyes twinkle nervously, she smiles from ear to ear.
                   "Put your car keys down," she says, " and sit down over here."
                   Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
                   Warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
                   She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my date.
                   The butterflies in my stomach, the dinner that we ate.
                   The getting on one knee, the joy of her tearful, "YES!"
                   The politics of planning now, the wondering what comes next.
                   She excitedly listens then excitedly speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight.
                   Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.

The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the place.
Mother's in her apron and there's butter on her face.
Her eyes twinkle happily, she smiles from ear to ear.
"Put that diaper bag down," she says, and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table, the toddler sleeps across my knee
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk are waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my week.
The ups and downs of parenting, and some advice I seek.
The teens are being sassy, this little one's a joy!
Three girls now and counting ,we hope the next one is a boy.
She knowingly listens then knowingly speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight;
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.

                         The smell of baking cookies greets me at the door
                         Grandma's in her apron and there's flour on the floor.
                         Her eyes twinkle lovingly, she smiles from ear to ear.
                         "Put your overnight bag down, she says, and sit down over here."
                         Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see
                         Warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
                         She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day;
                         the ups and downs the hurts and joys that came along my way.
                         The politics of siblings, the chores that are all mine;
                         How tough to be the only boy,  my sisters bug me all the time.
                         She wisely listens then wisely speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight;
                         Cookies, milk and Grandma's love, I know things will be alright.
                                             Julianna D. Bradley (JDB) 2011, July


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