The empty space upon the shelf,

A vacant jar, a silent theft.

Grandma's cookies, sweet and round,

Now vanished, nowhere to be found.

The family gathers, unconcerned,

No missing treats, no lessons learned.

But I, I know the hidden truth,

A secret held in stolen youth.

For in that jar, a treasure lay,

Not store-bought sweets, but more than play.

Grandma's recipe, a whispered lore,

Passed down ...