First is the crunch of a newly purchased box of Thin Mints,
With a glossy smooth green surface,
A picture of Girl Scouts working together,
Plastered on the cover,
Bought from a happy little girl with bows in her hair.
Then comes the minty freshness that works its way around your mouth,
Tickling your taste buds with the familiar taste of this annual treat.
Chocolate follows soon after,
Your teeth breaking the thin layer above the cookie,
Then even more chocolaty deliciousness weaves its way into your senses
Clogging up your mind with only happiness.

Sadness dawns upon you as you realize that this was your last piece,
Your last chance of bliss.
The box was only opened about five minutes ago,
Yet the thirty-something cookies had all mysteriously disappeared,
Evaporated into thin air,
Or most likely down your esophagus.

If only you had enough money to buy every single box of thin mints in existence.
What were you to do without this beautiful joy?
No cookie could compare to the wonderful balance of mint, cookie, and chocolate.
The only substitutes were mint Oreos,
But those were mere imposters,
Toothpaste smashed in between two plain cookies,
Cookies that barely tasted of chocolate,
But some grainy substance that you’d rather not think about,
Like gravel grinding against your teeth.

This beautiful food—no,
This beautiful gift was the single greatest thing to ever be produced.
You toss the two plastic casings into the trash,
As you await for the next season of Girl Scouts’ cookies to return.