Sweet Poem That Involves the Routine Activity of Buying Strawberry Cake
I wrote the following poem in 2006. At that time, I was proud of myself of writing it, and I’m still am. I wanted to write one that partially explains and explores part of my life. As I wrote it, I was thinking a lesson to learn from reading it is to treat yourself nicely once in a while to (obviously) something good. Life is too short to deny oneself of some of the rich and glorious material items that the world has. Everyone has only one life to live. I hope anyone that reads the following poem enjoys what I wrote.
Strawberry Cake
With both of my parents, my dog Sarah,
my Grandparents let me in their neighborhood,
I live in harmony
when discounting all the
heated arguments involving money.
I love special occasion days.
Mommy will always take me
just past five blocks
to a well-known bakery shop.
She's mighty predictable when
buying a strawberry cake for the four of us to gobble.
At times I would express myself
telling her I want to try the
chocolate mousse cake.
She always replied with . . .
That item is not allowed.
In every inch, it's rich with unhealthy
ingredients.
Don't forget more Washingtons will be gone.
For being ill-tempered, I test her
Why not splurge? Just once in a while
Not asking, like in the past Saturdays
to buy pizza and soda.
Instead of cooking corn beef with vegetables.
Why not splurge?
You, mommy, is able to walk, eat, and read.
You still have two eyes, two ears, and ten fingers.
She likes to shut me with,
"Heidi, don't second guess me."
Why not splurge?
Daddy makes more money than most Mexicans,
Pakistanis, and Rwandans.
We're mobile. He could drive us to anywhere.
Why not splurge?
I'm only nine and have an iPod and books.
I don't sew soccer balls for little bit of money.
Why not splurge?
You must be discontent with yourself.
Feeling you're not worthy of different cakes.
Life should not be a cakewalk.
Having numerous routines to sleepwalk through.
