Your dough made of flour, eggs, sugar and salt
Your sweet scent knows no bounds and makes me come to a halt.
Perfect little spheres all in a row,
Tucked into the oven and starting to grow.
10 minutes go by and you’re a perfect golden brown.
I immediately take a hot, gooey bite.
Maybe I should have let it cool off on the tray.
Yet even when burning my mouth you won’t find a frown
The taste of heaven is quite a respite
This is why molten cookies will always be bae.
The survivors of my pillage pile up on a plate
The sweet melted chips sitting pretty like bait
Just crisp enough to stay in one piece
I blink and the numbers start to decrease
There is no loud crack, crumble, or crunch
With these cookies- no, no
Even after their proper cool-down they are a smooth delight.
These buttery creations continuously getting munched
Three then four then six until I have to slow
Saving them for a snack at midnight.
The golden ratio of sugars exact as usual
Create that wafting fragrant aroma that’s crucial
Melted down and foraged to perfection
This kind of homemade excellence can’t escape my detection.
It’s hard to imagine the separate ingredients from just 3 hours past
Slowly churning, slowly earning their spot in my tummy.
Not-so-slowly disappearing as I consumed raw brilliance
I gaze remorsefully toward my hand at the last
The beads of chocolate embedded in an ambrosia of yummy
Then ‘snarf’, the last cookie (for now) is out of existence.