I’m Too Slow For Breakfast

    I love breakfast, a good omelette
Or eggs over easy and some toast
Add sausage and hash browns too but
Sausage biscuits and gravy, I love most

But breakfast comes early and fast
And now I’m lucky if I get brunch
Time has slowed me and more times
Than not I usually just get lunch

It’s a sad, sad thing and  sometimes
I feel like a loser instead of a winner
I hate not getting a morning breakfast
So sometimes I have it for dinner

My dilemma is real for the morning
It just moves so very fast
I can’t get motivated and time
Doesn’t stop and mornings don’t last

To sum it up with my poetic description
Breakfast mornings are a swift tempest
I’m like an aged slimy slow moving snail
And I’m Too Slow For Breakfast

Written By:Charles Kean
04/17/2025

There is a moon up in the sky ,
another one that walks the earth.
I deeply love them both.

Is this what is hurting you ?
Is this why you are walking away in silence ?

If only the Moon had a voice ,
it would have smiled and whispered-

" He loves me only because
in me, he sees you."

Father, listen, do you hear
The wailing spirit's desperate sound?
See you the black despair
That like a python 'round his neck is wound?
His light, it flickers, dimmer seeming,
As he off his hope is weaning,
As the stars all fall careening
From his eyes down to the ground.
He wonders if You've vanished,
Or if 𝒽ℯ is lost to ne'er be found.

Father, I know that You
And your compassion for us Men are real.
Your hands can still do miracles,
My eyes have 𝓈ℯℯ𝓃 them work and heal.
So hear my prayer as I plead
For this dear soul in dire need --
Set him from this bleak shadow freed,
Wrap him in love that he can feel!
And if he must this fire endure,
Then forge him into stronger steel.

The moon has yet again been touched
On every side by light of sun,
And with the unrelenting march of time,
A new lament's begun.
What good's a heart made heavy
By affections idle and unspent?
And what's a sanctuary
Where no precious thing is ever sent?
Come to me soon, my hope and vision,
Longingly I wait for you!
Imagination mocks me
With a stream of fancies not yet true!
Your face, it is an ever-shifting blur
I almost can behold,
Bejeweled with dark and starry eyes
That shine as freshly polished gold.
Your skin, it would be tender,
Colored peach-pink with a brush of rose,
Your tiny form light as a cloud
In my embrace as you repose.
Your smile, it would contain the sunlight,
And your laugh, the breath of spring,
And as you dream in peace embosomed,
To you I would softly sing.
These images delight me
And revive the fires of my heart,
But then the vapors from which they were made
All scatter and depart.
Oh little unformed soul,
Your warmth within my arms I still know not.
Your phantom weight upon my chest
Has many hopes and sorrows wrought.
The record keepers of the sky've
Declared another wait in vain,
So let this wasted flesh mourn with me
In these coming days of rain.