Narrative poem: Snack Attack

By: Maya Armstrong and Annabelle Neufeld

There once was an old lady waiting for the train

She could hear her stomach inside of her brain

She found something to eat right down her lane

She walks to the vending machine

and there it lay, the best thing she’d seen.

A perfect box of cookies so she could survive

They lay there for only a dollar twenty-five

She made the purchase while waiting unsure

Longing for the ache in her stomach to cure

And the machine denies despite her roar

She bangs and bangs and bangs some more

But the cookies were stuck,

And she was out of luck

 

She took a few steps back and got a running start

And dislodged the cookies into the cart

She beamed with pride and grabbed her prize

Put them in her bag then walked out the door but to her surprise

There was a man on the bench

They waited for the train to arrive in the trench

She took out her cookies and started to eat

As she sat on the bench, she began swinging her feet

The man took a cookie jamming to tunes

The woman was stunned, reading cartoons

She couldn’t believe what she just saw

The man on the bench clenching his jaw

She hollered and screamed

But she didn’t consider the theft to be redeemed

 

They shared the whole box till there was only one left

Then decided to speak out about his theft

The train finally arrived as he took the last one

The lady was furious about what he had done.

She forced him to share, and he hesitated for a second

But the lady forced, and he reckoned

Sharing with her would the right thing to do

He split the cookie in two

She was steaming with rage

She crumpled the cookie and walked offstage

She grabbed all her stuff

And boarded the train in a huff

 

Staring back at the man

Before the train began

She found her seat in the center of the train

Took the seat farther from the lane

A man asking for her ticket

She got out her pass staying quite as a cricket

He punched the pass and walked down the aisle

She replaced her ticket and saw something wild

The cookies she purchased were still in her bag

The ones she had eaten were not her own

But they were those of the man who was kind, green flag

She smiled out the window now understanding the loan

The man on the bench still on his phone