Breakfast
It troubles me that soon I will be doing this breakfast with someone else.
It won’t be you stirring coffee over the Times
With your tie flung back
over the shoulder of a blue untucked shirt
White porcelain mug in hand.
I won’t smell your aftershave in the mornings or wonder what our kids will look like
Or remember your middle name
Or maybe even your first name.
I can only slice my orange and scramble some eggs for you
And pet the back of your hand
Until you’re gone.
© youngwby
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Comments
on 06/21/07 at 01:14 PM
so simple but very beautiful. I can picture this setting and the characters so clearly.Add a comment