We have not forgotten the tales, the tales of the sugar beneath the stove. This was the brand most sought and desirable. This was my favorite. This was my own. The sugar grains were shiny and beautiful, never damp and never old. Sweetened coffee to a pie in the oven, we shall wait for the sugar to melt. This is the tale of a bag of sugar, never seen, never forgotten.
Beneath the stove the sugar arose, like the cookies in which they were bound. Tomorrow is the day, that the bag will see light, with laughter and smiles, we were alright.
Thanks for reading my sugar song!
