A Dream No More

My cookie is so little It’s an itty bitty thing. It is a bit like peanut brittle, Save the peanuts, fit for a king It crackles and snaps when fresh But alas! It has grown old alone. Mold surrounds it, a crown of doom It dreamt of glory, but stays where it was thrown. In the trash, its hopes forlorn. My cookie, whose life so itty bitty Accomplished less than hoped, what a pity.