Poetry – Was This Just Apple Pie?

A free verse poetry, “Was This Just Apple Pie?”

A humorous little ditty about apple pie. We grow up with favorite foods, the familiarity of SWEET scents, and happiness that mothers create. And when we grow older, it’s the memories we hold on to in our hearts. Hope you enjoy this free verse poetry.

apple pie a la mode

Was this just apple pie?
I think not. It was more.
As a child, it held secrets.
Secrets laced with cinnamon and love.
It came in layers too.
Each bite better than the next.
Mom would tease us first.
Giving us samples of raw apples,
smothered with cinnamon and sugar.
Then dose after dose I would eat more:
Like a drug addict. Addicted to meth.
I ate it till I was sick.
But that didn’t stop me.
It was the intoxicating smell too.
The smell that leaked from
that damn box in the kitchen,
filling the kitchen with warmth,
and sickening sweetness.
Then down the hallway,
and engulfing the living room too.
I had to run into my room.
I had to escape it.
I tried to read a book.
But then it slid under the door too.
Right into my bed and up to my nostrils. DAMN. It got me.
I heard a noise.
It was the timer to that box that held the apple pie.
I thought I would die.
Because now that smell would be
even more intoxicating.
I heard mom open that damn box.
And then she yelled; “Come and get it.”
I ran to the door, opened it as fast as I could.
Down the hallway, I went with lightning speed.
Into the kitchen, I find my place at the table first.
Mom pushed over a dish. There it was.
Hot apple pie a la mode. I’M ADDICTED.

©Linda J. Wolff 2017
|Was This Just Apple?|
A free verse poetry.

A drug induced by Mother’s and Love…American Made. “Apple Pie.”


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was this just apple pie? poetry, free verse poetry, food poems, love, mother’s, happiness, baking apple pie, apple pie, daily prompt, post a day,



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Linda J. Wolff is an interurban word spinner and extrovert through many coffee-stained papers and owned by Rookie the hyperactive Pomeranian dog at Urban Poetry.

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