Sweet Smores

Laughing sticky faces; gleaming all around
Sweet and goey goodness, dropping to the ground
Soft and chewy marshmallows, turning a golden brown
Little children burn them, their faces turnin' a frown
Never ever bake them
Or I will never take them
A true smore is always roasted
And never toasted

Spring

Brightly colored flowers blossum,

New creatures creep out of their safe homes,

.... Away from their protective mothers

A light breeze whips at your hair; setting it free

...The beautiful moments of spring.