Milk and Honey

Cookies and Milk.

 

I had my friend Bill,   we rode our bikes

and played together.   He had his own

friends and so did I.

 

 

On an Autumn day,  after the leaves

had fallen,  new neighbors moved in.

I watched them unpack

and I noticed a girl,  about my age.

 

My mom and her’s became friends,

and this girl came along too.

We eyed each other skeptically,

and the mothers had for us,

cookies and milk.

 

From then on,  we became fast friends too,

and our cookies and milk, as well.

Every morning with our bacon and eggs,

were fresh cookies and milk.

 

And each day,  when we walked to school,

our arms about each other’s shoulders..

In grade school even, with smiles on our faces

we walked to school and teased each other.

At home,  whenever we appeared were the

milk and cookies,  of course..

After our explaining each day,

we went outside and played, until

our mothers implored us, to come in and eat.

 

Pretty soon,  our classmates teased,

She was ‘cookies’ and myself,  ‘Milk.’

But we were best friends and we WERE

Cookies and Milk.

Never dreaming that that our

love could grow deeper and deeper.

 

Then one morning, I noticed a change.

Her boyishness figure was full of curves.

Her haired smell nice and her hands

felt warmer.

And instead of arms around each other’s

shoulders,  we walked hand in hand,

still ‘Milk’ and ‘Cookies’,  never apart.

 

We added a caveat, to our names,

for honey and baby,  entered the fray.

But still,  we were,  and forever

would be,  ‘Milk and Cookies’.

 

And as we grew, our journeys

went to different, and secret places

to discuss and wax over each other.

Milk and honey and but still

Milk and Cookies.

 

I carried her books,  hand in hand,

and our texts,  everywhere, and I meant,

everywhere!

Milk and Cookies,  Milk and Cookies.

We went on our journeys,  walking with each other,

Milk and Cookies and Cookies and Milk.

Inseparable as  wind and the rain,

dark and the setting sun,

We still were of course,

Milk and honey to us,

Cookies and milk,  to all others.

 

Cookies real name was Cheryl

and my name does not matter,

as you will soon see.

Milk and Cookies?

It started to rain overnight.

The fog held itself close.

 

In the morning,  the rain had ended.

That morning,  it was different,

and the do0r bell, went unanswered.

When my friend caught up to me,

he trembled,  with tears in his eyes.

I am sorry dear friend, truly, truly sorry.

 

I remember ‘Cookies’ and so did our

school,

Milk is all alone again,

and Cookies looking down.

but in my heart, they still.

MILK AND COOKIES.

COOKIES AND MILK…

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