Cinnamon Ghost

Take care and beware

Of the Cinnamon Ghost!

He swoops through the air

Stealing cinnamon toast!

Though no one is certain

Of his size or shape,

He swishes the curtain

And swooshes the drape.

You turn, try to catch him,

But find out instead,

That no one can match him—

He’s gone with your bread!

Your lovely wheat slices,

Your warm melty butter,

Your sugars and spices—

They’re gone in a flutter!

You gape at the theft,

And the breakfast nook hums,

But all you’ve got left

Are some speckles and crumbs.

There’s no one in sight,

But you almost could swear

That a crunch of delight

Comes from Grandpa’s old chair.