Twas’ deep within the very depths of searing August heat,
A little one, with little coin, in search of sweet relief.
Accompanied by sisters three the youngest pressed onward,
Seeking some familiarity ‘twixt walls of stone and wood.
They wandered grand halls, smoked and dark, searching for a sign.
Baskins, was what they had sought. Friendly’s, they did find.
They had arrived.
Brown eyes big and open wide, she stared upon the counter’s shine.
“So what will our young poppet try?” asked Sam, his smile benign
With voice devoid of warmth or cheer the counterman orated
“Honey, Almond, Strawberry, Peanut Butter?” He waited.
She shook her head.
“Maple Mint, or Blueberry? Marshmallow? Pistachio?
An old standard perhaps is best: Chocolate, No?”
The little one’s head nodded, a’ quivering in fright.
Too many choices bothered her, her face was chilled and white.
Lo, Sam’s transact was not complete, he had uncertainties:
on sugar cone or merely plain; and lastly add jimmies?
Then, they were Done.
The little girl, soundlessly, traded coin for treat.
The little girl, boundlessly, found an open seat.
The little girl, wordlessly, lifted cone to teeth.
The little girl, carelessly, licked the underneath.
Baby Sister, helplessly, saw her treat hit floor.
Eldest Sister, thoughtlessly, laughed and laughed some more.