Breakfast Fantasy Poem
Crispy bacon, maple syrup, hash browns with oregano…
Oven-crisped bacon for me.
You like yours wriggling.
I like mine with crunch and chew,
blackened to perfection.
You sate each of us with two batches.
Homemade gluten-free waffles
pat of butter, drizzle of maple syrup.
Omelets folded with our favorites:
mushrooms, onions, peppers, cheese.
Hashbrown rounds made from fresh-
grated potatoes, fried in golden oil.
Crisp rectangles of potato pancakes
smothered in melted cheddar cheese
topped with dried oregano and juicy
red tomato slices, salt and pepper.
On the side, ruby pink grapefruit
served with a serrated spoon —
hold the sugar. I want pure sour
on my lips. I puncture the flesh,
sip the juice and crunch my bacon
before digging into the hashbrowns.
I concoct a coffee treat —
spiced with cardamom, sweetened with honey
subdued with a splash of oat milk.
We sit together to feast, toast two cool
tall glasses of water to wash it all down.
I see your eyes follow my curves
appreciate my appetite.
I take my time to savor the feast.
We adjourn for a mid-morning snooze.
When we awake we exchange
bedroom kisses
make love in the sunshine
streaming from our bedroom window.
We meander to the kitchen
run our hands under warm water
soap the dishes in soft, luxurious suds
until everything is put in place again
ready for another fantastic
fantasy breakfast.
