Mother Hen
His insidious preening as he eyes each teenage guest
makes me want to gather them in a protective nest,
to spread my wings to cover them and tell them to take care.
To go home and do homework and fiddle with their hair.
I want them safe away from this producer’s leering glance.
Away from all they’ll forfeit to try to get their chance.
For all the favors he hands out, with his other hand he reaps,
consuming all the sweet young things as though they were just Peeps!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Do they taste like chicken?
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Nope. They taste awful. Marshmallow covered in sugar.
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I think they taste better stale. But I haven’t eaten one in a dozen years. It is one of the true joys of NOT having a child in the house. No Easter candy!
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