He peeks into my morning
with a dusted, dimpled smile,
presents a lacy platter
of cookies, my sweet child.

Cookies shaped like crooked hearts
speckled pink with glaze.
Crumbling, crooked shortbread piles
stacked upon the tray.

I take a cautious nibble
and hope my grief won't show.
Instead of sugar he used salt,
my bumbling romeo.