Breakfast

A poem written after observing a sunset.

A beautiful breakfast was prepared today.

The most important meal,

Plopped on my doorstep this morning:

 

                One egg, sunny side up,

                Over a layer of cream: airy, fresh, and blue--

                Sprigs of thyme trees and cinnamon bark

                (With leaves of minty winter)

                Poking into an expanse of parsley--

                And under it all is browned toast:

                With crispy crust,

                And crumbling crumb.

                Let it stand until dawn--

                Serves all.

 

A bounty to be sure.

A feast for me, for Man,

For all. But that was in the morning.

 

And now

the yolk broke got runny and the cream isnt light and the sprigs have no mint

and the mints gone and the parsleys limp and the toasts soggy

and dusks here not dawn

and no eating happened and where is man where was man when breakfast was ready

where am i and where was i when breakfast was ready

where are you and where were you when breakfast was ready

the breakfast was left out and now its ruined because no one would eat it and its too late

breakfast is meant to be eaten

so now what do we do

 

 

?

Author's Note

A bit nontraditional at the end. What do you think?

Reviews

[Mockingbird]

i agree. breakfast is useless if you don't eat it right away. it's an interesting subject. the ending sounded like the mad hatter or anyone in wonderland. i had a good time.

[Sasha]

Its so good written, that it makes me want to go and make some eggs and toast. Great job. I like how its so creative.