Hansel and Gretel

What kind of mother
sends her children out
without their shoes or coats -
nothing but a trail of crumbs
to find their way back home?

They all find their way here.
Maybe it is the scent of holidays
freshly baked inside my kitchen
or the sight of spice drops
glistering in the rampant dusk.
The children like my house -
my rich ginger carpets
so easy to get lost in
and the pink pillows
puffed and glossy with promises.
They do not notice me watching,
how my fingers slip around their wrists
to measure their meager lives
or how I can smell when
they last ate their supper.

They only smile at me
and beg for more chocolate
in greedy little voices

and ask if they can see
what's baking in my oven now.