Cookies in Bed

The misty gray fingers of dawn, the early bird song.

I think I am right, but maybe I’m wrong.

Is it time to rise? Is it time to shine?

I can smell the coffee, and it smells fine, but…

Not as fine as that first cookie in bed.

Which would you like, the jerky, the boney, or what’s in your head?

A crunchie, a munchy, oh, those cookies in bed.

Visions of cookies swimming in my head and then

I smell ’em, I lick ’em, and eat ’em right up.

I love me some cookies, cookies in bed.