The table fills with shapes of snow,
Of stars and trees in tidy rows;
We swirl on icing, soft as snow—
The joy is in the cookies made.
Red sprinkles fall like tiny lights,
Green sugar coats the frosted nights;
Each cookie gleams with small delights—
The joy is in the cookies made.
A gingerbread with sugared grin,
A candy cane with stripes drawn thin;
We laugh as crumbs collect again—
The joy is in the cookies made.
When trays are full and ovens fade,
We share the sweetness love has laid;
No frost outside can make us trade—
The joy is in the cookies made.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: December 12th, 2025 10:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
A seasonal poem of seasonal treats. Painted in colors it also seems a metaphor for doing for others and good will. A lovely poem
Could not agree more. I love cookies...so naturally, I showed up. Now my tummy is growling! LOL! Wonderful poem, my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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