The stick of soft candy
In the glass bowl on the counter lay,
Labeled in small black lettering
"Five Cents"— more than I could pay.

I fingered the twisting candy threads,
Sugary ropes of red and white
Wrapped around and around each other,
A most delicately precious sight.

And my inching fingers twitched
And tingled as I contemplated the flavor,
The sugary angels dancing on my tounge,
Luscious, succulent, tender.

It was time to go, mother called.
I wrested my eyes from the dulcet torment.
From Temptation's clutches I wrestled away,
Lingering in my mind were the aromas the sweets lent.

Outside was a world of chillingly blazing light.
Frozen rays of early sunlight played
Upon the vast oceans of unending white,
Too cold to let the earth breathe.

As I crunched along the iced path,
My fingers twittered in my coat pocket:
A new friend they had discovered there
Whom they had once before met.

I carried the little friend out and listened
To it's sweetly melancholy song;
For their rested a dulcet twisted candy
Upon my white snowed palm.

I gazed and gazed, forever gazed
At the darling sweet creature;
So fantastic, so marvelous, so beautiful it was,
Perfect beyond measure.

To take it back would be an awful waste;
For though of course it did not belong to me,
My finger's plan and the sweet's I'd never know.
And the arrangements I never did see.

I would be useless to take it back—
It could never be resold.
And now in my hand it was here
It, more precious in all the world than gold.

My finger's actions
I could not condone.
They must have just had
A mind of their own.