Uploaded on October 30, 2011
I stood at the counter,
Peeling and slicing apples for pie.
My son Jack asked for a slice,
Then another slice,
Then “Just one more,”
And “Just one more.”
I said, “If you keep eating the apples,
I’ll have none left for pie.”
These are surely the exact same words
My mother said to me
When I helped myself to apple slices,
As she made pie.
—Cheryl Doyle-Ruffing
10.30.2023: Yikes! I guess I desperately needed a poem that day.