Something new, Gabe,
You’ll wanna try,
Even though,
It’s not called pie.

Gabe wants pie-
Apple pie, 
No crisp, no kringle, 
Only pie.

Cry, cry, cry.
Why, Mom, why?
Don’t want that stuff,
Only pie.

Peel, chop dice,
Might entice?
I don’t like that.
You’re just not nice.

Crispy, flaky, sugary dough
Apples, cinnamon, down below.
Bake, and wait, while
Spicy scents come, overflow.

Big ole’ sigh.
Then blue eyes fly
To contemplate
What’s not called pie.

Oh, please, Mom, please?
Can I try?
I like this stuff.

Better than pie.

In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength. But you were unwilling…Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you.  

Isaiah 30:15, 18