I was a small girl but already knew
from sight I would not like your pumpkin pie.
I watched you bake it yearly as I grew;
I did however like to watch and spy.
You seemed to take such pride in what you did,
as we watched the Thanksgiving Day parade.
Dad was real sneaky even as you hid
his favorite that day, his hurt displayed.
But one thanksgiving day I took a bite,
It wasn't near so bad as what I thought.
To tell the truth, a really nice delight;
my strong dislike was now an afterthought.
I now make my own lovely pumpkin tarts;
I wish I'd liked your pie right from the start!
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Author Notes
Today's topic: Baking a pie
Today you are challenged to write a standard sonnet of 14 lines in iambic pentameter (10 syllables per line) with an abab, cdcd, efef, gg rhyme scheme.
Your sonnet can be humorous, sad, metaphorical, or a recipe. Any kind of pie, including humble pie, is good.
Have fun and set your imagination free.
Thank you to anyone who has helped me improve my meter or rhyming in my poem!
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