High above a gentle treat.
Maybe when they both sleep.
I'll find a way to sneak.
Moms kitchen - another peek.
bove a morsel odor.
Me below, just like Dover.
Now's my chance so sublime.
Left alone, a minute all mine.
Chair with looks,mighty far.
A cookie from the holy jar.
Still warm from the bake.
Hands full, crime of the take.
from my poem book - DREAMS