Warm sugar cookies that my Grandmom prepares.
I love to look, I love to stare.
She always told me not to share
What has been in her generations for years.
My Mom is sick with a cold. But she’s so bold,
We would not even know if she hadn’t told.
My Dad is kind, my Dad is nice,
And he never shot down a game of dice.
My little sister is sleeping.
She is so peaceful, she doesn’t notice me peeking.
I can’t escape it, these feelings of home,
But really, life is unknown.