Marshmallows

By Sydney Fowler 

A sugar high wrapped
into a cylindrical bundle.
Small enough to sweeten
hot chocolate.
Big enough to glue
a s’more with its melt.
In between pieces of rice cereal
and molded into a sticky bar.
Dumped into the bowl of a six-year-old
begging for a snack after kindergarten.
Unsubstantial, but satisfying on the taste buds.
Fueled a sugar addiction
that will take years to reverse.
Warmed over a fire,
but never long enough
to create a crispy casing of burn.
Grabbed by tiny fingers digging
for the last one lost in trail mix.
Tossed into the air
and caught ungracefully
by an open mouth.
Sealed tightly into a plastic bag
with a chip clip for another day.