Ode To Mrs. Butterworth

April 8, 2011
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From a maple tree you came about
Thick, sticky, and rich.
Then to the factory you were sent, where they made you into simply sweet syrup.
From there you were shipped to stores across the globe. This was where my eyes came upon your beautiful deep hazel gaze.
Our relationship continued to grow from that point on.
It started with Sunday mornings walking down stairs to see you greeting me at the kitchen table with a fresh stack of pancakes.
Then you kept making more and more, from waffles to oatmeal.
Every breakfast from that point on you were there sitting loyally at my side.
Until that day when the last tear drop of maple’s medicine dropped from your face and spread across my Eggo waffle. That day was the last time I ever saw you.
Because the next week I met Aunt Jemima

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