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
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,
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
Milk is all alone again,
and Cookies looking down.
but in my heart, they still.
MILK AND COOKIES.
COOKIES AND MILK…