An Ode to the blue flour canister

Oh blue flour canister

how I love thee

for my happiness when I walk into the kitchen,

you have been a key

I love that with a tint of blue

I can see how much flour you hold

I remember the day I got you

during a shower just after I got my wisdom teeth pulled

it stunk to empty your contents

and pack you away

I'll miss you while I'm in India

maybe I'll use you again someday.

Promise me you'll stay in style

so that upon my return

I can take you out of that blasted box

and together we can satisfy a cookie yearn.

love, me